A Good Babysitter
by RosemaryJolene
Summary: AU. Harry Potter has a perfectly nice babysitter. But he'd rather have a mum. COMPLETE.
1. A Nice Quiet Night

Title: Good Babysitter

Author: RosemaryJolene

Rating: PG for mild language

Pairings: No.

Summary: Young Harry Potter has a good babysitter. But he'd rather have a mum.

Author's note: Huge thank yous to everyone who stuck with me and reviewed to encourage me to finish this story. Thank you especially, faithaccompli, for betaing and bettering the great majority of this story.

This is a repost of the story in its entirety. I've gone through and edited for style, but the content remains basically the same. Except for the notable exception of, say, the ending? Which it now has.

**Chapter one**

Traffic was horrid. Nell sighed in exasperation as the London drivers made their weekend exoduses to country homes and getaways. The Dursleys had a positive knack for wanting a child minder just when the traffic would be the worst.

At least they only wanted her to mind Harry; she wouldn't be nearly as eager to get there if she knew Dudley was waiting for her as well. She'd loved watching Harry, but on the rare occasions when the Dursleys left Dudley, it was a positive nightmare. They really didn't pay enough for that awful, spoiled little pig.

She finally arrived and rang the bell. Mrs. Dursley answered, her face pinched with tension.

"Oh, it's you," she said ungraciously. "Come on in." She held the door open only enough for Nell to slither in sideways, and Mrs. Dursley banged it shut immediately behind her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Dursley," said Nell as politely as she could. "Where's Harry?" She looked around for a sign of the cheerfully tousled black hair that always grabbed her attention first whenever she saw Harry.

But she didn't have to look far. As soon as Harry heard her voice in the hall, he came tumbling out of the cupboard to greet her. He was quite dishevelled, even for him; Nell could see a bit of spiderweb in his wild hair.

"Oh, my, Harry," she said, ruffling his hair fondly. "Don't you ever get this mop cut?"

He winced and squirmed out from under her affectionate hand, looking up at her in alarm. "You aren't going to cut it, are you?" he asked in alarm, and moved his hand up in a futile attempt to smooth it out.

Nell frowned. "Of course not, Harry. I think it looks adorable just as it is. Besides, I wouldn't do anything like that without asking your aunt." She turned to smile at Mrs. Dursley, who smiled back tightly, then turned and walked upstairs, twittering anxiously for her 'Dudders' to get himself ready. Nell watched her go with amusement.

Harry looked down and muttered something. Nell stooped closer to his level. "Sorry, Harry, didn't catch that?"

He repeated himself. "Aunt Petunia doesn't like my hair. She'd let you cut it." His eyes were wide and earnest, his tone confiding.

She frowned again, but let that pass without comment. She changed the subject. "What would you like to do tonight? I brought a video or I have some colourons."

Harry brightened up. "Oh!" he said. "I'd like to colour, please! Can I draw anything I want?"

She grinned. "If you can dream it, Harry, you can draw it for me." Harry smiled back at her and they started to move to the next room.

Vernon Dursley interrupted them in their progress to the lounge. "You're not encouraging any nonsense, are you? We don't hold with that kind of rubbish in this house, missy," he barked, his bluff, beefy face red with bad temper.

Nell shook her head and looked down. She knew what he wanted to hear, and she was perfectly willing to play along. To be honest, Mr. Dursley unnerved her with his relentless focus on normality; she wouldn't have been a bit surprised if he really led Satanic rituals every month. "Of course not!" she said, sounding shocked and trying not to giggle at her errant thought. "I wouldn't dream of it, sir; I know how you feel about the occult."

Dursley looked at her suspiciously, but after a moment relief spread across his fat face and he said, "Well, that's all right then," as he began to walk upstairs. "Mind that you don't let him get away with anything – funny," he added in an oddly constrained voice.

Nell murmured a vague sound of assent, then looked down at Harry and crossed her eyes. He barely covered his mouth in time to stop the giggle from emerging. Honestly, if Harry wasn't the sweetest thing she'd ever met, she'd quit this job for two pence and go wait tables. But she spent nearly all of her Dursley-time, as she thought of it, with Harry, and she could tolerate the uncle for his sake.

They continued into the lounge and coloured innocently as the Dursleys made a great deal of noise getting ready, Dudley threatening tantrums twice. The first was over being forced to go to the 'stupid party', and the second was about his favourite tie. Honestly, it was hard to believe he and Harry were related. She couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for Dudley, who had been spoilt beyond endurance, but she had to admit that it was easier to pity him when she wasn't near him.

Nell and Harry both breathed a bit easier once the Dursleys were out the door. They continued to colour for a few moments, and sure enough, Dudley had forgotten something. Once Nell was sure the Dursleys were gone for the evening, she tucked the book away and took out blank paper. Harry set to with a will.

When he'd finished his picture, she was breathless. No, he wasn't a particularly good artist; he was, after all, only eight. But this picture had a lovely simplicity, despite the fact that a flying motorbike was the focus of the scene.

"That's beautiful," she said appreciatively.

Harry looked uneasy. "Would you like it?" he blurted. "I'd get in trouble. Uncle Vernon would shout." He hastily handed her the sheet, and she willingly took it.

Nell pinched her lips together briefly to prevent her saying something she might regret, then nodded. "I'd love to have it, Harry. I'll put it on my 'fridge door, and then when you visit, you can see it again, how about that?"

Harry nodded. "That would be very nice, thank you," he said, almost primly. She grinned.

"Now how about that video?"

After an evening of giggles and popcorn, Harry sat snuggled against Nell on the sofa. She loved these moments, she really did, but at the same time, she wanted to hit the elder two Dursleys.

It was at an unguarded moment like this one that Harry had confessed that he really lived in the cupboard under the stairs, that his Aunt Petunia wouldn't buy him clothes, and that Dudley liked to hit him.

(Nell wanted to consult with child services to have Harry taken into care, but somehow every time she thought of it, she felt her mind oddly skipping past the thought. She came up with the flimsiest of excuses to mask her unwarranted reluctance, but she couldn't help but think of Harry's frantic alarm and panic the one time she had mentioned the possibility. She'd adopted a 'watch and wait' philosophy until she could force herself into action.)

This particular evening, warm and drowsy in a blanket on the sofa, Harry told Nell about his last haircut.

"Aunt Petunia got all worked up and decided that my hair 'just would not do', and got out the clippers. She cut it almost all off, except the fringe to cover my scar. I looked awful," Harry confided. "And then – and then – when I woke up, it was _just the same_. It had grown back overnight!"

Nell mentally shook her head at Harry's imagination. He'd end up a writer for sure. But she treated the story absolutely seriously. "Why do you think it did that, Harry?" she asked, her face deadpan.

"Well," considered Harry, "I think I was worried and somehow – somehow did some kind of magic or something." He looked oddly uneasy for a moment.

She nodded. "That does sound like the best explanation," she conceded, keeping her straight face.

Harry sighed happily. "Uncle Vernon locked me in the cupboard all weekend for that," he murmured sleepily. "I'm glad you're not mad." And he dropped innocently off into sleep, unaware of the bombshell he had just thrown at her.

Locked In The Cupboard. Locked In. Locked.

Nell wanted to cry.


	2. An Ersatz Class Project

**Chapter two.**

When the Dursleys returned home, Nell could see that they were not happy to see Harry asleep on the sofa. Petunia's lips pursed in distaste, and suddenly Nell wanted nothing more than to slap her. Thankfully, she managed to restrain herself.

"Mrs. Dursley," she said quietly. "I was wondering if I might ask a favour." Petunia raised an eyebrow. "I have a project to do for my child psychology course at university. I was wondering if I might borrow Harry – just to observe, no experiments, I promise – for, say, a week?" She felt a thrill of disgust run through her at the thinly disguised glee in Petunia's expression.

"Well," fluted Petunia, "Are you sure that would be enough time?" She undid her coat, taking just long enough that Nell could see its distinctive plaid lining and designer label. The sight made Nell think of Harry's ill-fitting, worn, ragged jacket, and it only made her angrier and more determined.

Actually, the assignment that Nell had in mind was one that she'd done ages ago, from her introductory course, and was only a short paper anyway, easily completed by anyone who'd spent so much as an hour with a child. But Nell knew she had a light week of studying ahead of her, and she couldn't stand the thought of Harry staying with these people a moment longer.

She'd work out what to do on a longer-term basis once the week was up. If she didn't do something, she felt like she wouldn't be able to breathe. She rubbed absently at her throat.

"Perhaps, Mrs. Dursley. Can I let you know later in the week if I need more time? Also, do you mind calling 'round to his school in the morning and warning them that I'll be bringing him in and picking him up?" Nell racked her brain for more practicalities, but didn't really think of anything else that she really needed. Mostly, she wanted to leave as soon as humanly possible.

Petunia nodded quickly and paced smartly around to the cupboard. She took out a small satchel and put in the best of Harry's clothing, which, admittedly, was a meagre selection. Nell gritted her teeth. Perhaps a shopping trip would be in order this week.

She slung the light satchel over her shoulder, then carefully shook the sleeping boy. "Harry," she called gently. "Harry, wake up, dear."

He mumbled and rubbed at his eyes, but frowned when he encountered his glasses, waking up a bit. "Wha?" he asked sleepily. "N'l? Still you here?"

"You're going to come visit me for a bit, Harry," Nell said gently. "Do you mind?" It occurred to her that she had been a bit peremptory -- she hadn't even asked Harry.

But Harry grinned and swung his feet off the sofa, to Mrs. Dursley's obvious relief. "Let's go!" he nearly shouted, clearly woken up fully by this wonderful news. Nell felt the lump in her throat ease slightly and she took a deep breath in relief. Surely she was doing the right thing.

Nell nodded coolly at the Dursleys as they left, who had the decency to at least try to mask their joy at seeing Harry leave.

Harry fell asleep again as soon as he was strapped in and Nell's car was in motion, but before they arrived at Nell's apartment, he gasped and jerked awake.

"Bad dream?" Nell asked sympathetically.

"Yeah, I think so," said Harry. "But it's just a bunch of green light and someone laughing, so it's not like a real nightmare, is it?" He looked slightly ashamed, as if his bad dream wasn't quite up to par.

Nell frowned. "Well, if it scared you, then it's a nightmare. It doesn't have to make sense."

"Oh," said Harry quietly. He thought about that for several minutes, and before he could say anything else, they arrived at Nell's flat.

She helped the yawning boy up the two short flights of stairs and quickly pulled out the futon in the lounge for him. Harry looked at it in mild surprise. "So big," he yawned as he clambered on and fell back asleep.

Once more, Nell felt violent toward the Dursleys. Really, this was out of control. She grabbed a spare blanket and covered the sleeping boy before heading to her own bed. She was unconscious in only moments.

The next morning, Nell felt her mattress sag and soft breath on her cheek. She could feel someone staring at her. She couldn't think why – and then she opened her eyes. She looked straight into Harry's eyes, and they both jumped a bit, then grinned sheepishly.

"How about some breakfast, then," said Nell.

"Um – all right," said Harry. "What would you like? I can do eggs and bacon and sausages. And I've just about got the hang of pancakes!" he added proudly. He started to scramble off the edge of the bed, but looked back at her in surprise when she grabbed his shoulder.

Nell drew in her breath sharply, then counted to ten before she spoke. "No, Harry," she said gently. "I meant, what would you like for us to make each other for breakfast? You don't have to wait on me, but we can both cook if you like."

Harry's face lit up. "Do you know how to make waffles?" he said excitedly. He squirmed under her hand, and she let him go. He bounced for a moment, then sprang off the bed, ready to dash into the kitchen.

Nell grinned back. "As it happens, my fine young sir, I do have a waffle iron. How do you feel about blueberries? Or perhaps chocolate chips?"

Harry was practically incandescent with joy as they walked -- and bounced -- to the kitchen.

"I hardly ever get fruit in things! Dudley doesn't like fruit, so Aunt Petunia doesn't buy much. It's too bad, really, I really like fruit -- like blueberries and apples and oranges…" he chattered away, listing different types of fruits, as they got out ingredients for the waffles, including the carton of fresh blueberries. Harry's eyes got round and he snitched a berry, looking at Nell from under his lashes as he did so.

Nell did the only thing she could. She grabbed a few berries herself. They grinned at each other once more, then Nell began to show Harry how to make the waffles. He was actually quite good at mixing the batter, but he had trouble judging how much to put in the iron. Nell suspected he just liked to see it squish out the sides.

She didn't mind. She rather liked that part of waffle-making as well.

They giggled over breakfast like a pair of eight-year-olds, rather than an eight-year-old and a nearly-twenty-two-year-old.

After the breakfast dishes had been washed and wiped, Nell sat back and said, "What would you like to do today?"

The question clearly threw Harry. He sat, puzzled. "I don't know," he said finally. "Will you pick for us?"

"Well," said Nell, deliberating. "There's the cinema, or the zoo, or the history museum, or –"

Harry bounced in his chair. "Is the history museum the one with the dinosaur bones?" When Nell nodded, he said politely, "I'd like to go there, please. But can we do the zoo and the cinema another day?" He looked thrilled to bits at the possibility.

"Of course," said Nell expansively. "Anything you want!" Harry grinned up at her and took her hand. Her throat felt a little constricted in the face of such trusting joy.


	3. A Lovely Weekend

**Chapter three.**

After a full day of chasing after the bundle of energy that was Harry, Nell was regretting her promise just a bit. It wasn't that Harry wanted treats or presents (as his cousin Dudley would certainly have done in his place); no, he simply wanted to see _everything,_ right that moment.

But as much as her feet ached, she wouldn't have traded a moment of the day. Harry had been rather reserved at the Dursleys, rarely laughing out loud, though he would occasionally smile. But after only one day away from them, his laughter rang out frequently.

He was currently sitting beside her in front of the telly, laughing his head off at cartoons. Nell grinned and dug into her bowl of ice cream, watching Harry watch telly.

The next morning began the same way. Nell and Harry made breakfast together (French toast this time) and cleaned up the kitchen together. But Nell didn't give Harry a choice of activity this time. She mock-glared down at him and said, "Young man, you are coming shopping with me, and that's final!"

Harry tilted his head to the side, looking at her warily. After a moment, he smiled uncertainly. Nell dropped the stern act immediately, tousling his hair further. His smile grew.

They traipsed off to the car.

That evening, Nell was left once more with sore feet but a sense of satisfaction mixed with fury. Harry was much too small and thin for his age, and his clothes were pathetic. Hadn't the Dursleys fed and clothed him properly? Clearly not.

He was so grateful to get new things; it had been obvious, of course, that he had previously been wearing Dudley's hand-me-downs. Nell didn't have much extra money to spend, but she made the pence stretch 'til they squeaked, just for Harry. He did look nice with clothes that fit. And now he could go to school with his head held high.

School. Nell groaned. She hadn't done any schoolwork the whole weekend. She was absolutely buggered for Monday, and probably Tuesday. She looked over at Harry, sleeping peacefully, and she tiptoed off to her computer.

She stayed up altogether too late working that night. The next morning, Harry had to jump on the bed and poke her before she consented to wake up. Yawning, she made her way toward the kitchen. Harry, of course, was fresh as a daisy and looking forward to wearing his new clothes to school.

They had a nice fry-up and then Nell looked at the clock. And panicked. She became a whirlwind around the close flat, trying to get everything together and out the door in under five minutes. They were going to be so late!

Nell got Harry to school barely on time, much to his relief. He had told her how much he dreaded spending time on the schoolyard with Dudley's gang around.

Nell threw herself into her classes, and it wasn't until the third class of the day, a psychology course, that disaster struck. Well, not disaster exactly, but her mobile rang in the middle of class. She slunk out, embarrassed, and took the call.

It was Harry's headmistress. And she sounded angry.

"Miss Burton?" she snapped.

"Yes?" Nell answered cautiously.

"Mrs. Dursley had informed us that you are the emergency contact for Harry Potter this week. Is that correct?"

Nell's heart jumped into her throat as she managed to stammer out an affirmative. But before she could ask if Harry was okay, the other woman was rolling on.

"I will have to ask you to come to school, then, and take him home for the day. He has caused quite a regrettable incident, and we think it best if he spends the rest of the day away from school."

Nell gasped. "What did he do?" She started calculating the fastest route from her class to Harry's school in her head.

The headmistress paused. "Well, he – er – he climbed onto the roof of the school, as it happens. That sort of behaviour is strictly inappropriate!"

Nell wanted to laugh. Or cry. Was that all? "Can you wait until my class is over?" she asked. "It will only be half an hour or so more; surely he can go back to class for that long."

The headmistress's voice gained frost. "I'm afraid not, Miss Burton. I'm very sorry."

She sighed and closed the mobile. She sneaked quietly back into class. Futilely, as it happened, because the professor stopped lecturing to watch her return to her desk and gather her things.

"May I ask where you're going?" she inquired coolly.

Nell thought quickly. "Family emergency. I'm sorry."

The professor looked abashed. "By all means, Miss Burton. I'm terribly sorry."

Nell ducked her head and left the classroom, heading straight for Harry's school.

When she arrived, Harry looked terrible. Scuffed up, dirty, and frightened-looking, the poor boy looked miserable. The first thing Nell did was sweep him up into a big hug. Now he simply looked astonished. Clearly, he had not been expecting a warm welcome.

"All right, Harry?" she said. He nodded dumbly. "Good," she said. "Do you mind waiting here for –" she began, then reconsidered. "Will you come with us? You can tell us what happened."

Harry smiled tentatively, encouraged. They walked into the headmistress's office.


	4. Because Where's Harry, There's Trouble

Chapter four.

" – and so I only meant to jump hehind the trash bins, I didn't mean to go on the roof, I swear," finished Harry, still looking down. He had delivered the entire story staring at the floor.

Nell was a bit shocked at the level of bullying that Harry was subjected to by his cousin. The headmistress looked less surprised, but a great deal more skeptical. "You do know, Mr. Potter, that such wild tales make us doubt the rest of your story as well. You would be better served to tell the whole truth."

Harry stayed quiet, watching at his hands twisting in his lap. Nell felt her protective instincts rise to the surface once again. "Listen here, you," she growled. "Look at Harry. Isn't it clear that something very upsetting has happened to him? Instead of trying to comfort him, you're calling him a liar! What kind of caretaker for children are you? If he says he didn't mean to jump on the roof, he didn't mean to jump on the roof. But there's no denying that it did keep him out of the way of a beating -- a beating that you and your staff would not have prevented him from receiving. You should be ashamed." By this point, Nell was standing and waving her finger in the air for emphasis. The headmistress was watching her gesturing finger as if entranced. Nell shook it at her, and she cringed, then jumped slightly.

"Well," she said slowly, as if not sure what had just happened, "I'm sorry, then, Mr. Potter. We'll, er, try to keep a closer eye out on Dudley and his friends. And, er, you can return to class for today, I think." The headmistress sank down into her seat as though she wasn't quite sure what had just happened.

Nell gave a satisfied smile and marched Harry back to his classroom, making a detour so he could wash his hands and face.

The rest of the week passed without incident: at least, bad or strange or unexplainable incidents. Nell and Harry did have a great deal of fun in the evenings, playing cards and watching telly. Nell even tried to teach Harry chess, but he wasn't particularly interested, preferring draughts.

On Saturday morning, the phone rang. Nell got a nasty shock when she answered. It was Mrs. Dursley.

"Miss Burton?" she asked shrilly.

"Yes?" said Nell

"Please come by our home this afternoon or evening. We wish to talk about the boy and his future care." She paused and added ungraciously, "We would appreciate it very much. Thank you."

"I'll be there, of course, but what --" said Nell, but Mrs. Dursley hung up on her in the middle of the sentence. She stared at the receiver in her hand in disbelief, then turned to Harry. "Looks like we're heading back to Privet Drive tonight," she said with false brightness.

Harry's face fell. "I know," Nell said. "I didn't want this week to end either, but we knew it would, right, Harry?"

He nodded jerkily. "Yeah," he muttered. "I guess." She hugged him, but he remained sitting stiffly in his chair and didn't return the hug. "Can I read for awhile?" he asked.

"Sure," said Nell quietly. "Sounds good."

At around four o'clock, she couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. She stood up, sighing explosively. "Well, let's go," she said.

Harry rose as if he was going off to his own funeral. He glumly collected his things, old and new, and stood miserably by the door.

The drive was awful. Silence reigned, and neither of them seemed to want to put on the radio. When they arrived, Nell was nearly overcome with the sudden impulse to turn the car around and run away forever. But she pressed forward, got them out, and rang the bell.

They were greeted at the door by Vernon. "Look, missy," he blustered, "You seem to put up with his nonsense. Either you take him, or he goes straight into care. We enjoyed this week of peace, and we've decided that we simply won't put up with his insolence or freakishness any longer. Make up your mind quickly, if you please, missy." Over his shoulder, Petunia was looking troubled and vaguely guilty, but when she noticed Nell looking at her, she swiftly composed her expression.

Nell thought quickly, looking down at Harry's fearful little face. His shining green eyes implored her, and she relented. "Fine," she snapped at Dursley. "Where are his legal – things" she waved her hand vaguely, "permission to treat, birth certificate, and so forth? Do you have guardianship papers for me to sign or anything like that?"

Dursley whipped around to his desk and pulled out a thin file folder. "I've been waiting for this for years," he gloated. "Sign here and here, missy, and he's yours."

Nell signed. She grabbed the rest of the folder, which held a birth certificate and her copy of the agreement, seized Harry's hand, and they took their leave.

Once they were back in the car, however, the situation began to sink in. Nell had just, essentially, adopted an eight-year-old boy. She quietly began to panic.

Her car steered itself steadily to a small, quiet estate in Kent. She and Harry, who had been curled up in a little ball of misery for most of the trip, walked to the front step and rang the bell. A nice-looking older woman answered the door.

"Hello, mum," said Nell.


	5. Quite A Surprise

**Chapter five.**

"Nell, dear!" exclaimed the woman. "And who's this?" she asked, twinkling kindly down at Harry.

He wiped his face with the back of his hand, snuffled a bit, and then stood up straight and said, "I'm Harry, m'm. Harry Potter." He held his hand out, and she took it and gave it a quick shake.

"Well, then, Harry Potter, would you like to come in and have a nice cup of hot cocoa while my daughter explains what's going on?" She held the door open and waved Nell and Harry inside.

He nodded before he came inside, but he missed the look Nell and her mother exchanged. Harry was quite tired, actually. It had been rather a long drive around London, and he had, after all, just been given away by his only relatives. Nell, watching him, could see an underlying strength, though, in the way he held himself and kept his chin tilted up. He'd need that fortitude, certainly, dealing with her as a mother.

Mother. Mother. Mother. Nell still hadn't absorbed the implication. At twenty-one and change, one impulsive decision had left her with an eight-year-old son.

"Do you want to help me make the cocoa, Harry?" asked Nell's mother gently. He nodded and followed her into the kitchen, while Nell sank down onto the sofa, trying to decide how to describe this situation to her mother.

When Harry and Mrs. Burton returned with a tray of hot cocoa and biscuits, Nell had composed herself somewhat.

But when her mother sent her that amused, inquiring look, Nell couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. It was either that or cry, and she didn't think she should subject poor Harry to that. He was already looking rather hurt and shocked, and while she couldn't stop laughing, she pulled him close on the couch and gave him a tight hug. That calmed her down enough to sip at her cocoa, calming her further.

"Mum," said Nell, "This is my son, Harry." She deliberately didn't explain the strange statement, watching for her mother's reaction.

Her mother only blinked. "Ah. Was this a very well-kept secret, or a recent development?"

"As of," Nell checked her watch, "Seven this evening, I suppose. You see, Harry had just spent a week with me, and when we went back to his relatives' house –"

Harry interjected quietly, "They didn't want me."

Nell didn't know what to say to that. It was, after all, true. So she just pulled Harry close for another squeeze.

Her mother looked at them. "You seem to have things well in hand, dear. If you need my help with anything, of course I'd be more than happy to do what I can, but it seems that if you've managed a week, you can manage a month. And if you can manage a month –"

Nell chorused with her, "—you can manage a year. And then the rest of your life." She looked down at Harry. "It's something of a family motto: to remind us to take life in bits and bobs instead of great big unmanageable chunks."

Harry looked at his hands. "Am I unmanageable, then?"

Nell, shocked at what she'd implied, hurried to deny it. "No! No, Harry, that's not what I meant. I just meant, I'm a bit afraid of trying to be a mum, so I'm trying to think of it of simply a lot of weeks like the one we just had rather than ten more years, that's all. You're a blessing, I swear, Harry." Harry gave a small smile. Nell smiled shakily back.

Nell looked back at her mother. "Advice is all I'll need, I think. I only have one semester left at uni, and then I should be able to get a job. Dr. Carlson knows someone who's interested in having me there, and it seems an excellent opportunity. I just wanted to introduce Harry to his grandmother, I suppose."

Harry clearly hadn't thought about this angle. "Grandmother?" he said rapturously. "Really? Do I have a grandfather, too?"

Nell's eyes stung suddenly. "No, I'm afraid not, Harry. My father died several years ago."

Harry nodded. "So did my parents. They had a car crash."

Nell hugged him even closer, and Mrs. Burton leaned over and squeezed his thin shoulder. Then she gasped. "My word, you're skin and bones, boy!" she exclaimed. "Here, biscuit, biscuit!"

And the sad moment was broken for the time being. The three laughed like old friends.

But only a few minutes later, Harry was yawning widely two and three times in a row, and Mrs. Burton shooed him off to Nell's old bedroom, bustling around to get him an extra blanket and glass of water and last biscuit. But when she finished fussing, she returned to the lounge where she had directed her daughter to remain.

Stopping in the doorway, she glared. "What on earth! Nell Katherine Burton, I cannot believe you! What were you thinking? You aren't ready to care for a child right now, and certainly not a child as damaged as I'm sure Harry is after an experience like that! What were you about, you little daftie?"

Nell threw up her hands. "I had to get him away from them! You wouldn't believe it. They locked him in the cupboard under the stairs. For days, mum. They call him a useless freak; they talk about how worthless his parents were. I think once he implied that it would have been better if he had died in the crash as well! You can't tell me that's normal!"

"No," conceded her mother, sighing, "but why you, Nell? Why not simply call the authorities and have him taken into care?"

Nell sighed. "Well, for starters, they have money. Not like Money or MONEY, but they're comfortable. You'd be surprised what authorities overlook in the wealthier homes," she added bitterly. "Plus, have you seen him? Talked to him? Then you know. Something about that boy just draws you in. I'd known him for about ten minutes and I was devoted. Why else would I drive all the way out to Little Whinging to that odious Dursley house? It certainly wasn't for the 5 pounds an hour!" She sighed deeply and looked imploringly up at her mother. "I can't describe it. Do you know what I mean?"

Her mother said lightly, "Unfortunately, yes." Nell's head jerked up and her eyes asked a question. "I say unfortunately, because it's how I felt when I first saw you, and hearing you describe it has reminded me just how old I am. Dear me, I have an eight-year-old grandson!" she said, as if she was having trouble absorbing the idea.

"Oh, mum, I hadn't even thought about that!" said Nell with mock sympathy. But she couldn't help laughing when her mother met her eyes.

"Will you stay for a few days?" her mother asked.

"Tonight, definitely," said Nell, grateful for the chance to avoid driving back to her flat that night. "But I should really get Harry back home on Sunday so that getting off to school on Monday isn't a problem."

Her mother nodded. "That makes sense, dear. Look, you're already thinking like a mother." She smiled when Nell looked up at her in alarm. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it," she said.

Nell sighed. "Can I go to bed, Mummy?"

Her mother sent her off to the guest bedroom with a hug and an extra biscuit, just as she had with Harry.


	6. Another Surprise

**Chapter six.**

Nell's mobile shrilled as they were on their way back to her flat. The two of them had left her mother's house quite late on Sunday night, and Harry hadn't quite woken up for the walk out to the car. He didn't even twitch when Nell pulled to the kerb and answered the call.

"Hello?" she said quietly, keeping an eye on Harry.

"Nell, darling! Where have you been? None of us have seen you for a week – we've been worried sick! And I thought we were going to meet up at McKinnion's tonight. You're about an hour late, which, even for you, is a bit of a stretch. Did you get lost again?"

Nell laughed. "Calm down, Emma. I'm fine, no I'm not lost –"

Her friend cut her off with a laugh. "That'd be a first!"

Nell said, "Oh, ha bloody ha. I thought you wanted to know what was going on?"

Emma sighed dramatically. "Oh, my dear, forgive me! Do go on!"

"Well, as it happens, I've – I'm – I should really tell you this in person, actually. I'm not sure you'd believe me, else." She looked fondly over at Harry. He looked so peaceful curled up on the seat. Even as she watched him, though, he stirred and woke.

"Nell?" he asked sleepily. "Where are we? Are we almost home?" Through the phone, Nell could hear Emma's indrawn breath; she had heard.

Nell moved the phone a bit away from her mouth. "Not quite, Harry," she said. "I just got a phone call, that's all. You can go back to sleep, I'll tell you when we get home."

Harry yawned. "'Kay," he assented sleepily, and curled up once more.

Emma asked quietly, "Who was that? It sounded like a little kid. Nell, have you kidnapped someone? Are you on the lam?" By now she seemed more amused than anything.

Nell took a deep breath. "Not exactly. That was Harry. I'm – I've adopted him."

There was a shocked silence.at the other end of the line. "Okay, that's it," said Emma briskly. "Come to my flat tomorrow at six. Bring – Harry? And be ready to explain yourself!" And she abruptly rang off before Nell could object.

Nell collapsed her mobile and sighed. It wasn't going to be pretty. But she glanced at Harry once more before pulling into traffic again; they'd love him, she just knew it.

They did. Nell dutifully took him with her to Em's flat the next evening. He had been rather petrified, poor darling, at the prospect of another emotional conversation with more people who would think him a freak.

But they walked through the door into a surprise party. Emma, bless her, had managed to pull together a welcoming party for Harry in the seventeen or so hours since she'd learned the news, and a surprising number of people had been able to attend.

At the initial burst of noise, Harry had hidden behind Nell's legs, but he had been willing to be coaxed out and feted by a number of fawning uni coeds. He was entranced with the idea that the party was all for him, shyly confiding that he'd never been to a party before.

Disbelieving, one of Nell's friends had incredulously asked, "Not even your own birthday parties?"

A shadow had crossed Harry's face and he pouted a bit. "I never had a birthday party. Aunt Petunia doesn't like extra mess."

The surrounding celebrants had looked shocked, and the attention paid to Harry was suddenly even more lavish.

Only a little bit away, keeping a weather eye on Harry, was Nell. She was explaining the situation, and had paused in her explanation to allow Emma and Audrey to hear Harry's confession. Understanding and horror had blossomed on their faces; they hadn't wanted to believe that people would be so horrible to a child.

"See?" said Nell softly. "They didn't pay any attention to him, they hated spending time or money on him, and they made him sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. Sometimes, he says, they'd lock him in for punishment. How could I leave him there for a second longer when I heard that?"

Then Audrey was the one to ask the question that she'd come to expect. "But why –"

This time, Nell cut her off. "I just – had to. I'm not quite sure I understand it myself, really. Something about him just –compelled me. Don't you see it?"

Emma and Audrey exchanged a glance. "Well, he is a nice enough lad," Emma said cautiously. "I don't know if I'd go so far as to say compelling, myself. But it's done, all nice and legal, so all that's left for us is to show him the high life!"

"Don't you dare corrupt my precious boy, you harpy!" exclaimed Nell, and the three girls fell into giggles, planning treats and excursions for Harry in the near future.


	7. A Letter, A Trip, and A Snake

**Chapter seven.**

But the very next day, before they could put any marvelous plans into effect, Nell and Harry came home from school to find a letter waiting.

Nell looked at the return address and paled. It was from Child Protective Services and looked ominously official. She ripped it open and began to read.

_Dear Miss Nell Burton,_

_We have received your petition for the guardianship of Harry Potter. As this petition is uncontested by the current guardians, temporary guardianship is hereby awarded. Permanent custody will be considered following interviews of both you and Mr. Potter and a home visit by a social worker. If necessary, family counselling may be required before permanent arrangements may be made._

_Please call Mary Wilkens at (0)20 7631 6801 to schedule your interviews. A social worker will visit your home; a formal observation will also take place at that time. Additionally, a surprise visit may be made._

_Thank you,_

Euan Childress Associate Director of Child Protective Services 

Nell sat back, a bit frustrated. Where were their home visits and family counselling when Harry had been locked in his cupboard? But now that he had found a loving environment…she sighed. She supposed it was good that they were taking an interest at all. Better late than never.

For a moment, she thought it strange that she was so upset at the prospect of being examined by the hypothetical social worker. But she dismissed the logic of the thought and soon forgot it completely.

She called the scheduling secretary and lined up an appointment for the following Thursday afternoon, after school had ended for both of them. She called Emma almost immediately in a panic.

"Do you think they'll take him back to the Dursleys?" she asked worriedly.

Emma laughed. "Please, Nell. They'd have to drag him kicking and screaming. Besides, you're loads better than the Dreadful Dursleys. They can't help but see that Harry adores you."

"You really think so?" Nell clutched the phone desperately as if the receiver itself would comfort her.

"I know so. You're being ridiculous, really. You need something to take your mind off things, I think. How would you and Harry like to go to the London Zoo tomorrow after school?" Emma offered.

Nell grinned. Now that was her Emma – have fun now, and let trouble come when it may. "Sure!" she said, allowing herself to be distracted from her worrying for a few minutes while they planned.

But as soon as Emma rang off, Nell's imagination was off and running once more.

When Nell came to pick Harry up from school that afternoon, he was sporting a black eye and his glasses were more cellotaped than usual. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he muttered, "Dudley's gang."

She made to turn the car around, but Harry stopped her. "No, the headmistress stopped them, it's okay." She scowled but continued to drive to Emma's flat.

He asked, "Where are we going? This isn't the way home, is it?" He looked puzzled.

Nell realised that she'd not actually told Harry about his upcoming treat. "We're going to go pick up Emma, and then the three of us are going to the London Zoo. Sound fun?" She glanced over at him to see him nearly glowing with joy. She was surprised he managed to refrain from bouncing out of the car with excitement.

"Harry?" she said. "Would you mind changing schools? You could stay at yours if you like, but it's not the closest to me." Harry immediately shook his head, growing, if possible, even happier. He only wilted a little bit when she said, "Well, it would be best if you finished the term where you are; it's only few more weeks. But for the fall term, I'll get you set up somewhere else." Harry grinned.

Just then, they arrived at Emma's flat. Nell sent Harry up to fetch her, and he trotted off, walking quite importantly and smoothing his hair. She didn't bother to hide her grin. "Won't help, Harry," she said softly to herself.

When they arrived at the zoo, Harry looked around, but didn't know what to do first. "First things first," said Emma firmly. She marched over to an ice cream vendor and bought him a large chocolate treat, and treats for her and Nell as well.

Nell was happy watching Harry being so happy, Harry was engrossed in his sweet, and so it was Emma who led the way around the zoo. Harry didn't seem to have favourites, excited at each new sight.

Harry particularly liked the lions, and as they watched them, he and Nell roared at each other for several minutes while Emma stood slightly to the side, teasingly calling out that she didn't know them.

The next exhibit on the path was the reptile display. Emma shuddered and declined to go in. "I'll stay out here, thanks all the same."

"You don't know what you're missing," said Nell teasingly, and she accompanied an eager Harry into the darkened house.

He made a beeline for the cage of the largest snake, a boa constrictor. Before he could get there, a teenager had taken the central place in front of the tank, and was pounding on the glass. Harry stood politely off to the side until the other boy got bored with the motionless snake, then he moved, and Nell's vision of the snake was obscured.

She could hear Harry hissing at the snake, though, and was amused. Just like the lions, hmm?

Suddenly, the teenager who had been pounding on the glass a moment before rushed back to look in at the snake again, pushing Harry to the ground. Nell moved forward to help him up, and so she saw his eyes narrow – and then the glass front of the cage vanished. The snake took the opportunity immediately and slithered free, but not before hissing at Harry as it passed.

Nell would have screamed, if she had had any breath. As it was, she could only stare after the snake, already out of the herpetology house, in mute shock. The surrounding crowd was doing quite enough screaming, anyway, she thought dazedly. She finally shook herself and went to comfort Harry.

Harry, however, did not need comforting. "Did you see that?" he asked excitedly. "That was wizard! He said he's going to Brazil – he's never been there, you know." Nell blinked in utter astonishment at Harry's imagination.

"He – er – told you that he'd never been to Brazil?" she asked weakly.

Harry nodded as if it was the most obvious thing ever and pointed to the small plaque she's seen him reading earlier. "See? Bred in captivity. That means he was born in the zoo," he said importantly.

"Oh," said Nell weakly. "Well, I think that's probably all we can see for today. Why don't we find Emma and head out?"

Harry assented, but continued to chatter about how enthralling he had found the snake until Emma was in view.

She was standing a bit away from the building, stark white. As soon as she saw the two of them, she ran over. "They said – they said there was an accident with a snake! I was so worried – are you okay? Did you see it?"

Nell patted her shoulder. "We're fine, Emma. We didn't see anything particularly odd, did we, Harry?"

He cast her a slightly puzzled look, but shook his head. He was rather quieter than usual on the way back to the car, but Emma more than made up for it with a rant on zoo safety.

"Honestly, what do they think the cages are for, anyway—" and "Ruddy fools—" and "People playing at – silly buggers –"

And she continued until they had dropped her off at her flat. Harry had stayed silent for the ride, and he continued rather quiet until bedtime.


	8. Interviews and Revelations

**Chapter eight.**

Nell had only expected to see one social worker that Thursday afternoon. She was surprised, therefore, to see two officials standing on the stoop when she answered the door. The first was exactly as she had expected: an older woman with an unfashionable suit, a severe hairstyle, and stern but tired eyes.

The second, however, was like no one she had ever seen. For starters, he was _old:_ he had to be over eighty, at least. He was also dressed quite impeccably, but quite above the means of most social workers. His long, flowing white beard was fairly startling as well. Lastly, he was smiling – no, beaming – as he stepped into the flat.

The woman was far from smiling, however. She jerked her head at the older man, and he walked over to Harry, smiling reassuringly as he led him into the other room. Nell could hear him introducing himself as Mr. Dumbledore.

Her interviewer, though, kept to her stern mien and refused the offer of a cup of tea, although she consented to sit down. "I am Minerva McGonagall," she said curtly. "Is it Miss – Barton?"

"Burton," said Nell, worrying even more. If she couldn't even get her name right…

"Ah," said Ms. McGonagall. "Miss Wilkens has rather atrocious handwriting. Shall we begin?"

Nell nodded, nervously, and the questions began to come fast and furious. Questions about her current occupation (student), lifestyle (sedate), job prospects (fair), family situation (supportive) – even the flat itself.

"It is a bit…small," the older woman said critically. "He won't have a room of his own, it looks like." She craned her neck and looked pointedly at a small pile of clothing next to the sofa.

"It didn't hurt me, growing up," said Nell hotly. "It's perfectly comfortable, and miles better than anything the Dursleys were willing to give him." She crossed her arms defensively across her chest.

The woman simply nodded and wrote something on her clipboard. Nell felt a terrible impulse to take it away from her and read all that had been written. Had she said something wrong?

But the woman was continuing her questions and nearly all of Nell's concentration was focussed on answering them perfectly. Occasionally, though, she could hear bursts of laughter from the other room, and she envied Harry dreadfully as she answered another of the rapid-fire questions.

After nearly three quarters of an hour, Ms. McGonagall finally looked up from her clipboard and gave her a frosty smile. "I believe that wraps things up on my end, Miss Burton."

"Thank you," said Nell weakly.

"Mr. Dumbledore will see you now, and I will talk with Harry. I'll go fetch him, please excuse me." And she rose and went into the other room. In a few moments, Mr. – Dumbledore, had it been? – walked into the room and gave her a kindly smile.

Nell smiled back in relief.

He sat down next to her on the futon, currently serving as the sofa. "Hello, dear. Miss Varton?"

"Burton," said Nell resignedly.

"Ah! My apologies, of course. My eyes aren't what they used to be, I'm afraid." The named eyes twinkled cheerfully at her over the half-moon spectacles perched on his nose. Nell couldn't help but smile back.

"What questions do you have for me?" she blurted, then blushed at how blunt that had sounded.

Dumbldore simply smiled. "I fear the reverse will be true. I have some rather surprising information about Harry for you."

Nell looked at him quizzically.

"Harry's a wizard, Miss Burton," said Dumbledore calmly and with apparent sincerity.

"Oh," said Nell with mock gravity. "Well. That does explain rather a lot." She couldn't maintain the straight face and had to choke down a sudden giggle. "Look, why are you having me on? You can't be serious, of course."

"Oh, I'm quite serious. You said it explains a lot. What have you seen Harry do that would need explanation?"

Nell thought. "Well, he got in trouble for being on the school roof, when he claims that he only meant to jump behind some bins. Oh, and he made his hair grow from a dreadful cut his aunt gave him. I really don't want to talk about that incident with the snake!" She shuddered.

"Oh, indeed?" asked Dumbledore, sounding impressed. "The roof? That sounds a good deal like accidental Apparition, which is quite rare. And the hair growth is quite encouraging as well. Do you have any other possible explanation for what happened?"

Nell reluctantly shook her head. "No-o-o," she said, drawing out the syllables skeptically. "But do you have any proof for _your_ explanation?"

Dumbledore took out a thin, polished stick – a magic wand, she supposed – and waved it at her end table, muttering something under his breath. It suddenly turned into a very bewildered looking pig. He waved the wand again and the pig turned back into a table. He murmured again and a bouquet of flowers suddenly burst from the end of the wand, which he presented to her with a flourish.

Nell blinked. "Well. Goodness." She automatically leaned down to smell the flowers, and they turned into butterflies, then vanished in a shower of sparkles. She felt quite dazed at this display.

Dumbledore smiled, and then leaned forward. "Now that you know what Harry is, and what I am, I must ask you a few questions. First, how exactly did you meet Mr. Potter?"

Nell opened her mouth to begin, then closed it and sighed. After a moment, she began again. "When my father died, Mum and I moved around quite a lot. Trying to run from it, I suppose. But we spent a year in Little Whinging right before I left for uni, and I started minding Harry for pocket money." She wrinkled her nose. "If Harry wasn't such a doll, for two pins I'd've quit. The Dursleys were just awful. But he needed me, and so I stayed."

"Interesting. It sounds like you've known him quite a long time," said Dumbledore neutrally. "Why did you pick now to take him?"

"I didn't actually intend to at first, really. I wanted him to have a bit of a holiday, just a week, but the Dursleys decided that they wouldn't take him back after that. I didn't mind, not really; he'd told me that last night I babysat that they locked him in the cupboard under the stairs for punishments, and I couldn't leave him to more of that."

Dumbledore's lips compressed and he looked furious. Nell paused and looked at him, but he simply smoothed out his expression and nodded for her to continue.

"I only have a few weeks left before I leave school, and I'm just about able to support both of us on my scholarship. Once I start working, things will get even better. I just – I couldn't leave him for one more minute, I really couldn't. I felt as if I walked out of that house without him, I wouldn't be able to breathe, but when I told him we'd be leaving, I felt miles better. I suppose my conscience decided to make a stand."

Dumbledore nodded and sighed. "Ah, yes, I thought that would be the case. I'm afraid, Miss Burton, that it was not entirely your own free will that suggested you take Harry away from the Dursleys. You see, Harry's accidental magic is quite strong – Apparation at eight! – and once he found someone who cared for him, he managed to manipulate you. Unconsciously, of course, the dear boy, he didn't know what he was doing.

"But the fact remains that because it was Harry's dearest wish that he be removed from his family, he managed to compel you to do just that with very little trouble. I can reverse the effect, if you'd like, leaving you free to choose whether or not to keep Harry or return him to his relatives."

Nell looked at him, aghast. "Are you joking? I love Harry like my own child, but even if he was completely spoilt and unlovable I'd have wanted to take him out of there. Did you know that they locked him in the cupboard for punishment? The cupboard! In any case, whatever my original motivation, Harry is definitely mine now. So you needn't bother waving your magic wand or sprinkling fairy dust about or such." She sat back and crossed her arms defiantly.

Dumbledore looked amused and -- was that satisfaction? Smugness? His eyes twinkled at her, and Nell couldn't help but feel that she had given exactly the answer he was looking for. "Thank you, then, Miss Burton," he said. "I am grateful to you for what you are doing for Harry."

Nell hesitated, then leaned forward. "I have a favour to ask," she said. Dumbledore raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do you have anything from his parents? Any pictures, or stories, or possessions? I think it would be nice if Harry had something nice about them – all the Dursleys would say was that they died in a car crash."

Dumbledore looked pained. "Car crash?" he said, his voice rising slightly. "They told him they died in a car crash?"

Nell nodded, eyebrows raised. "I take it that's not what really happened?"

Dumbledore exhaled swiftly, in what may have been intended to be a wry chuckle, but sounded very unamused. "You could say that. They were, in fact, murdered by an insane evil wizard."

Nell sat back. "Oh," she said stupidly, unable to completely absorb that. "Not at all the same thing, then."

Dumbledore made a better attempt at a chuckle the second time. "No indeed." He glanced at his watch. "Perhaps we should bring Harry back from his interview. It may be best if I tell you both the story at the same time."

Nell nodded. She'd definitely want to be able to hug Harry for this, although she wasn't sure if she'd be offering comfort or taking it.

"I do have a few questions first, though," she said, stopping Dumbledore as he made to rise. He sat back down, attentive. "This accidental magic – what all can he do? What can I do to help – is it something he gets over? He's gotten in trouble at school, is there something I can do there?" She cocked her head expectantly to signal that the flood of questions had ended.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Oh, my, you are a parent, indeed. Well, accidental magic isn't something that you need to worry about. It's usually quite harmless – Harry told me a story about a particularly atrocious shrinking jumper? – and reasonably easy to mend. He does appear quite happy with you; if he does become upset, and he will, as any normal eight-year-old does, simply try to keep calm, both of you. It may not prevent breakages, for example, which are common, but it will prevent the more dramatic kind of magic. In short, Miss Burton, do not worry. Simply continue to love Harry, and the rest will come." He nodded sagely.

Nell felt reassured despite herself and took a deep breath. "All right then," she said. "Shall we fetch Harry from Ms. McGonagall's clutches?"

Dumbledore raised a hand to hide his smile as he rose. "Indeed, Miss Burton. Indeed."


	9. Questions Answered and Questions Asked

**Chapter nine.**

"It was on the 31st of October, 1981," Dumbledore began when the three of them were settled in the lounge and Ms. McGonagall had left to file the paperwork.

"Oh!" exclaimed Nell involuntarily. Both Dumbledore and Harry jumped and turned to her. She pinkened a bit. "It's just – that's the day before my own father died. Sorry, I'll be quiet." She sat back and folded her hands on her lap.

"No," said Dumbledore. "If you don't mind my asking, how did your father die?" He looked politely sympathetic, but there was an odd glint in his eyes.

"There was a gas explosion on the street," Nell said succinctly, not caring to elaborate. Dumbledore's eyes widened a bit, but he simply nodded and continued with his tale.

"I suppose, to be fair, I should start earlier than that. A wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort had been causing trouble, gathering followers, for several years before that time. They were dark days, Harry, dark days indeed; friend turned against friend, you didn't know who to trust.

"Because they fought against him – and they fought bravely, Harry – your parents became targets. They were forced to go into hiding, but they were betrayed, and on Halloween of 1981, Voldemort attacked. Your parents were killed, but when he turned his wand on you, the spell backfired and he was destroyed. That is when you received your scar – it's a curse mark, and one nearly anyone in our world would recognize."

Harry's eyes widened. He had been oddly quiet during the stark recitation, Nell thought, although he had shuddered against her side several times. "Do lots of people know what happened?" he asked incredulously.

Dumbledore twinkled at him. "You are known as the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry. Every wizard and witch knows your name, and your scar. That is why I wished you to be raised in the Muggle world – so that you would be able to escape your fame for a few years."

Harry said, "Oh." After a moment, he said, "What's a Muck—a Mug—"

"A Muggle, Harry, is simply someone without magic," Dumbledore informed him.

"Like me," interjected Nell.

"Precisely, my dear," said Dumbledore.

Harry sat quietly for a moment. Then Nell noticed his eyes tearing up, and he hid his face in her shoulder. Indistinctly, he said, "I can't be a wizard. I can't do that kind of thing. I'm not – I mean, I'm Harry. Just Harry. Not a wizard."

Dumbledore smiled. "Oh? You've never made anything happen when you were worried or upset?"

Nell poked Harry in the side. "What about the school roof, then? And your funny haircuts? What d'you call that?" She tickled him, and when he giggled reluctantly and batted her hand away, she looked up at Dumbledore. "Do wizards have flying motorbikes? Only, Harry draws pictures of them a lot." Harry looked up as well, interested.

Dumbledore looked stricken out of measure to the question. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, looking quite sad. "Yes," he said. "I have known someone with a flying motorbike and Harry would have been – quite well acquainted with it when he was small."

Harry looked eager. This had been the perfect distraction for him. "Who is it? Can I ride it? Do you have it?"

Dumbledore raised his hands, smiling once more, his sadness masked. "I'm afraid not, dear boy. You will have to let your memory suffice this time." Harry pouted but nodded.

Nell noticed that he had evaded the question of who the bike had belonged to, but let it pass. It didn't seem particularly important, although honestly, she too would rather like a ride on a flying motorbike.

"Oh, and Harry, remember the snake that told you about Brazil? Surely that's a magical thing," said Nell, winking at Dumbledore, sure that it had been Harry's imagination.

To her everlasting shock, he went quite pale and sat up in his seat. "Talking to snakes? Are you sure?" He seemed to realise that he had alarmed them and relaxed back. "My, my, Harry. You are full of surprises."

"Is that unusual, then?" asked Nell, a bit shocked that this, too, seemed magical. She had thought that the removal of the glass had been the only actual magic performed.

"Oh, quite unusual," said Dumbledore. "I think it would be best if you tried to keep that information to yourself. There is nothing wrong with Parseltongue – snake language – in itself. However, many people are a bit wary of snakes, which have become something of a Dark symbol in recent years. This superstition was encouraged by Voldemort, of course."

Harry was looking alarmed. "Am I going to be evil, then? What's wrong with snakes?" Nell reached over to hug him, but he twisted away. "You did it too, Nell," he said, his eyes darkening with suspicion. "You didn't tell Emma that I talked to the snake at the zoo. Are you afraid of me now?"

Nell wanted to laugh and cry and hug him, all at once, but he needed to be calmed down before she could do any of those things. "Harry, first of all, you are not evil."

"No, indeed," contributed Dumbledore.

Nell ignored his rather unhelpful interjection and continued. "Second of all, I didn't tell Emma about the snake because what would I say? Oh, Harry just made the glass disappear so the boa constrictor could have a holiday in Brazil? What? Oh, because the snake asked him to. How do you think Emma would react to that – you know she's got no imagination!"

Harry seemed to be considering this, and he allowed himself to be tugged into a hug the second time.

Dumbledore interrupted their moment of understanding. "You made the glass disappear? Harry," he said, leaning forward intently, "do you understand that that is the sort of thing you must try very hard not to do? That could hurt someone. I know you didn't mean to, I know you would never want to, but you have to be careful."

Harry nodded soberly, and Nell hugged him even closer, glaring at Dumbledore. Harry had begun to shake. She tugged him up. "I think that's enough for today," she said coolly to Dumbledore.

He nodded agreement. "If you wish to talk to me further, either of you, simply call Mary Wilkens. She will know how to get in touch with me." A smile touched his lips for a moment. "Do be sure to say your name clearly, though."

And he vanished with a loud POP.

Nell looked at Harry. Harry looked at Nell.

"Park?" said Nell. She wanted to catch the last few rays of sunshine, and Harry needed some fresh air.

"Park," nodded Harry.

Once they got there, Harry ran around the small park like a little dervish, blowing off the nervous energy that had built up during the afternoon. He stopped briefly to pet a small dog and smile up at the walker, but then he was off again.

Nell watched him and thought. He seemed so normal like this, not at all like a supernatural world-saving hero. His shoes were untied, Nell noted, and his nose currently needed wiping. His glasses were broken (she made a mental note to take him to an optican) and his hair was always untidy. Nothing heroic or saviour-like about that, really.

The man with the dog came by and sat next to her on the bench.

"Your brother?" he asked, gesturing at Harry.

"Son," she replied shortly.

His eyebrows arched in disbelief. "Surely – well, you look a bit young?"

Nell wasn't up to conversation. "Thanks," she replied, hoping he would take the hint and leave.

He didn't. "I couldn't help but notice your boy's scar when I was passing him. If it's not too nosy, how did he get it?"

Nell just looked at him, disbelieving, and as the silence stretched, he blushed. "S-sorry. I-I didn't mean –"

Taking a bit of pity on his embarrassment, Nell said, "Car crash. When he was a baby."

The man's eyebrows went up again, but he didn't say anything. After a moment, he got up and left. Nell shuddered with relief. She couldn't take questions about Harry; not tonight.

As night began to fall, she called Harry and they left the park together, not noticing the dogwalker trailing them at a distance.

When they returned to Nell's apartment, exhausted and windblown, there was a package waiting for them.

In an elegant script, it read:

For Harry, in remembrance of his parents. 


	10. Photos and a Problem

Chapter ten

After a quick glance at Nell for permission, Harry fell on the package. The brown paper wrapping was quickly torn away, revealing a large photo album and a slender book with a black cover.

Harry looked up with shining eyes before hauling his booty to the nearest table. Nell pulled up two chairs and they sat down to examine the items.

They began with the photo album. When they opened to the first photo, they were shocked to see the subjects of the pictures moving on the page. The images waved and grinned, and wandered in and out of the frames nonchalantly.

Harry paged through the book in wonder. Nell was rather surprised to see how strongly Harry resembled his father, except for the green eyes from his beautiful red-headed mother.

Nell rather wanted to cry, seeing this vibrant, beautiful couple waving on every page. And then Harry turned to a photo near the end that took her breath away.

It had Harry's parents and three other men, all grouped around a motorbike. The label underneath it read: _Lily and Triumph: The Marauders' Mascots_. Every so often picture-Lily would look down at the caption, scowl, and hit the man standing next to her. The other three men were smirking and chuckling at their antics, especially the one with his hand resting possessively on the engine cover of the motorbike.

Nell suspected that it had been he who had captioned the photo, for no reason other than it looked like something he might find fantastically funny to do.

Harry looked at the picture for quite a long time, then quietly closed the book. He sat still for a long minute before clearing his throat with a little sob.

The heartbreaking sound nearly made Nell begin to sob herself, but she managed to stave it off through sheer will.

"I wish I had known them," said Harry softly. "They looked like fun."

"Plus, they had a motorbike," said Nell cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood. She immediately felt a bit of an idiot, but Harry obligingly snorted.

He then looked up at her from under his eyelashes. "I do wish I had two parents," he said slyly. "Nell, do you have a boyfriend?"

Nell felt her cheeks flame with colour. What could she say to a matchmaking eight-year-old? "No," she said hastily. "I haven't really dated a boy in quite a while. I've been too busy with school. Maybe sometime after I leave?" she added in a rather strangled voice. How could she tell Harry that the last person she had dated had been named Cecily, and that he was rather unlikely to be getting a father if it was up to Nell?

"Why don't we take a look at this other book?" she suggested, hoping to distract Harry. It worked; he turned his attention to the slim volume lying innocently on the table before them.

The book had _Hogwarts: A Revised and Unexpurgated History of Marauding_ written on the front in gold lettering, with "Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs" near the bottom in smaller letters.

Harry opened to the first page. It was blank. He turned the page expectantly, and Nell, too, expected to see a title page, or an index, or _something_. Something other than more blank pages. The book, oddly, was completely blank. Nell and Harry looked at each other in shock – why would Dumbledore have sent such a disappointing book? Perhaps he had meant it for a diary or sketchbook?

Harry scowled, and said, "What a stupid book."

Writing began to appear on the open page. Harry's mouth fell open as he read it. Nell was equally surprised.

_Mr. Moony begs to differ, and advises the young reader to wipe his nose._

**Mr. Padfoot suggests that the reader put the book back, if it does not please. Little prat.**

_**Mr. Prongs concurs, and wonders how such an idiot managed to find this book in the first place.**_

Mr Wormtail offers his compliments, and respectfully recommends that the book be returned to its rightful place. That would be, for example, anywhere that is far away from you.

Nell snorted. "A book that insults you? Not very clever. Really, Mr. Dumbledore should have sent you a better present, Harry."

**Mr. Padfoot would like to inquire when and how Professor Dumbledore obtained this volume, not to mention why.**

_**Mr. Prongs seconds that request.**_

Nell and Harry looked at each other in surprise once more. "We-e-ell, I'm afraid I don't know. It was intended as a present in remembrance of Harry's father. That is, Harry Potter. Do you –" Nell felt ridiculous asking this of a book – "Do you know who James Potter is?"

The book was still for a moment. Nell got the impression that it was shocked, insofar as a book _could_ be shocked.

_Mr. Moony would cautiously venture to say that we may be familiar with that name. Did you say "in remembrance of"?_

This time, it was Harry who responded. "Yeah. I mean, yes. He – um, he died. When I was a baby. Him and Mum. So I was hoping –" his voice trailed off.

**_Mr. Prongs would like to ask if young Harry has any particular questions for his father._**

Harry looked thoughtful. "What was he like? Er – What should I ask, Nell?" he appealed to Nell unexpectedly.

"Mmm. Maybe, what can you tell us about him? Just, describe him in general," Nell suggested.

**Mr. Padfoot would like to say that he was a bloody great prat to go and get himself killed.**

Mr. Wormtail would like to echo that assessment, and further add that he is surprised that he managed to pull a girl for long enough to spawn.

**_Mr. Prongs would object to this slander, and would like to express his great admiration for James Potter. He was, indeed, a prince among men, a hero, a true Gryffindor…_**

Looking puzzled, Harry interrupted with a question. "What's a Grfy – Gryffindor?"

Once more, Nell got the impression that the book was shocked. This impression was borne out at the next statement.

**Mr. Padfoot would like to register his doubt that this can be the son of James Potter.**

Mr. Wormtail is appalled at such ignorance.

_Mr. Moony takes leave to inform young Potter that a Gryffindor is a member of the noblest house at Hogwarts, the epitome of all that is chivalrous and brave. _

**Mr. Padfoot would also like to contest Mr. Prongs' last statement. He cannot be allowed to get away with such a set of blatant untruths.**

**_Mr._**** _Prongs would like to remind Mr. Padfoot that he is speaking to said Potter's son. Surely a good impression must be made?_**

_Mr. Moony would like to note that a good impression is currently impossible to make, after such bickering._

Nell laughed. "Miss Burton would like to agree with Mr. Moony," she said. "She requests that they return to the point before Mr. Potter and Miss Burton close the book on them."

She looked suspiciously at the book, and if a book could laugh, this book was laughing. She wasn't sure how this impression was being made, and she was quite suspicious of it.

Before it had a chance to respond to that sally, Nell heard a POP and felt a brush of air. She looked up to see what had happened.

It was Dumbledore, looking grim. In his hand, he held a newspaper. As he handed it to Nell, he said, "We have a small problem."

Nell glanced at the paper.

The headline read: BOY-WHO-LIVED SIGHTING IN MUGGLE LONDON.

Below was a picture of Nell and, unmistakably, Harry. The article that ran next to the photo began, "Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was seen this evening in a Muggle park in London. He was in the company of a young woman claiming to be his mother. As it is common knowledge that young Mr. Potter lives with an aunt, this information was puzzling in the extreme…"

Nell didn't flip the paper over to read what was under the crease. Instead, she raised her head from the paper in shock and met Dumbledore's eyes.

"What's going on?" asked Harry, his attention diverted from the argumentative diary.


	11. Where Are We Going?

Chapter eleven.

"You can stay here tonight, but tomorrow morning, you will have to leave London. It's simply not safe at the moment. Most people in the wizarding world love Harry, but there are those who are not happy about the defeat of Lord Voldemort." Dumbledore looked tired and grim.

"But why should we need to leave? I have school, and -- and, things! And Harry has school, too. How long will we have to be away?" Nell asked in alarm.

"I am afraid Harry's exact location will be common knowledge by the morning, and when that happens, he cannot be found here. I have found a safe place for you to stay. As to how long, I am afraid I cannot say. Perhaps it would be best if you managed to arrange your schedule as far in advance as is possible?" He managed to make the question sound both polite and inexorable.

Nell paced for a few minutes, deep in thought and muttering aloud. "I can finish my thesis anywhere, that doesn't matter. The psychology course has only one exam left -- I can take that early, I hope. The professor is sympathetic to family problems. My statistics class won't be quite that simple, but if I can return for the final exam, I can at least finish out my degree. Might not get Honours, but I can live without them."

Finally she looked up from her planning. "I'll get us packed. It's lucky I'm so close to finishing school. Harry, will you be a love and pack your photo album and Marauder book? You can be in charge of those. All right, Harry?"

Harry looked absolutely bewildered, glancing between Dumbledore and Nell. "But -- why do we have to go anywhere? What's going on?" he asked plaintively.

"Ah," said Nell. She looked at Dumbledore inquiringly, to see if he was going to jump in and explain, but he only inclined his head and raised his eyebrows. She sighed. He could really be the most infuriating man.

"Well, Harry, someone recognised you, and they wrote about it in the paper -- oh, it was probably that nosey parker of a dog-walker," Nell suddenly realised, "And now people are going to try to come and see you. So we have to leave before they can find us. Try to think of it as a big game of hide-and-go-seek."

Harry looked deeply skeptical, but he nodded and collected his precious books.

Nell turned to Dumbledore, who was twinkling again. Infuriating.

She swept off to begin packing and heard a POP behind her. She didn't turn around.

In the morning, Nell was trying to figure out how to pack her computer when Dumbledore showed up. Unseen from the doorway, Dumbledore obligingly cast a Lightening Charm, but Nell, not expecting it, was heaving the piece of equipment off the desk. Consequently, she smacked herself in the face with its top edge. Gritting her teeth, she moved the now manageable machine to a box.

She gingerly felt her face -- it was rather numb. Lovely, it would probably bruise quite spectacularly. She composed her expression before turning to look at Dumbledore. She nodded and blandly thanked him for his help.

"Are the two of you ready to leave, Miss Burton?" asked Dumbledore.

"Nearly so," said Nell. "Harry!"

He came into the room, lugging a stuffed rucksack. "Do we really have to go?" he asked, looking rather wistful.

"It's not for forever, Harry," promised Nell. She looked at Dumbledore in sudden alarm. "It isn't, is it?"

"Oh, my, by no means," said Dumbledore genially. "Why, I shouldn't be surprised if you return even sooner than you expect."

Nell nodded, suppressing her desire to try to tease out more details as a futile effort.

"Shall we?" asked Dumbledore.

Nell nodded and grabbed her own rucksack and the box with her thesis materials (including the dangerous computer). "Where are we going, and how are we to get there?"

"I've arranged a car for us, as you have no fireplace," announced Dumbldore. With this apparent non sequitur, he began walking toward the door of the flat.

Nell and Harry looked at each other and shrugged. What fireplaces had to do with travel was beyond them, but they were in no mood to ask more questions; Nell, for one, was afraid of more inexplicable and bizarre explanations. She suspected, though, that she rather ought to inure herself to the inexplicable and bizarre.

The two of them trailed behind Dumbledore to the street door. When the door opened, the three of them were met with a rush of flashbulbs and eager questions. The press had caught up with them, it seemed.

"Picture, Mr. Potter?"

"Look over here, Harry!"

"Why didn't you stay with your aunt, Harry?"

"What's your name, miss?"

"What's your relationship to Harry Potter?"

"Professor Dumbledore, do you have a comment on the situation?"

Ignoring the shouts, Nell and Dumbledore hustled Harry to the car, though he certainly did not sturggle. He seemed quite keen on putting distance between himself and the cameras and questions and attention.

The driver, a cheerful redheaded man, turned around in his seat. He restrained himself to a quick glance at Harry's forehead and a grin at Nell before addressing Dumbledore. "Flying or driving, sir?"

"Oh, I should think driving would be adequate for now," said Dumbledore tranquilly, as if this was a request he encountered from every hire car's driver. Nell supposed that that may not have been far from the truth, actually.

"Next stop, Ottery St. Catchpole," said the man cheerfully, turning back around in his seat and pulling the battered Ford Anglia away from the kerb.


	12. New Friends

Chapter twelve 

It was quite a long drive to Ottery St. Catchpole, wherever that was. But by the early afternoon, the car was pulling up to what Nell was assured was their interim destination.

Eyeing it, Nell wasn't sure that it was even structurally safe, let alone safe from vicious, vengeful wizards. It looked as though a demented toddler had been allowed a life-sized set of blocks and free rein to build without relying on the boundaries of gravity.

Mr. Weasley, the driver, turned around, and with apparent pride and not a trace of irony in his voice, said, "Welcome to our castle, Harry and Nell!"

They tumbled from the car, eager to stretch their legs and, at least in Harry's case, to explore. He had been gazing at the house in wide-eyed fascination since it had been in view, and Nell could see that he was itching to see the inside.

The front door was flung open and a mass of redheaded children scrambled out into the yard. They were shortly followed by a short, plump, kind-looking woman, also with red hair. The two boys skidded to a halt in front of Harry.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" the boy on the left exclaimed breathlessly.

The boy on the right had an identical expression on his face -- in fact, Nell noticed, an identical face.

The girl standing behind them shoved them out of the way, caught a glance at Harry, and just stared dumbly.

Uncertain with what to do with this kind of attention, Harry looked pleadingly at Nell. Mrs. Weasley caught the glance and called her brood to order.

"Fred! George! Ginny! Mind your manners. Yes, of course he's Harry Potter, but he's also your guest! Oh, and Harry, this is Ron. He's about your age. You'll probably be at Hogwarts together."

"Er, in Gryffindor House?" said Harry, pulling out the only fact about Hogwarts he knew.

It was apparently a successful gambit. Ron grinned. Harry smiled back.

Nell looked at Mrs. Weasley to share a look of amusement, but as soon as the other woman glanced at her, she exclaimed in shock. "Oh! What on earth did you do to yourself, dear?"

Nell looked at her inquiringly. Mrs. Weasley obligingly produced a small mirror. Nell winced. Both of her eyes were blacked -- it looked rather as though she had been brawling. "Oh, bloody -- er, there was a bit of an accident packing. The bruises must have just developed. I do hope the reporters didn't get pictures of me like this."

"Oh, you can count on the Prophet to take the most unflattering snaps possible," said Mr. Weasley in an amused tone.

The woman, who Nell assumed was Mrs. Weasley, whipped out her wand once more, this time pointing it directly at Nell. Before Nell had a chance to feel alarmed, Mrs. Weasley cast a quick spell, and Nell suddenly felt miles better. She still looked like a mile of bad road, she confirmed, looking in the mirror, but at least the headache was gone. She hadn't even realised how badly her head had hurt before Mrs. Weasley had made it stop.

"Oh, that's loads better," she said gratefully. "Thank you."

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "You should really be more careful, dear."

Nell shot a quick glance at Dumbledore, but smiled genially at Mrs. Weasley. "Yes, I'm always so clumsy."

"Shall we go inside?" asked Mr. Weasley. "We can give Harry a tour, and I have a few questions for Miss Burton, if I may?"

Dumbledore suddenly looked amused, and Mrs. Weasley rather irritated. "Oh, _honestly,_ Arthur," she muttered under her breath.

"Yeah, come on, Harry," said Ron. "I sleep at the top." The two boys raced off.

After Ron and Harry had rocketed through the house, examining every room, closely shadowed by Ginny, and occasionally accompanied by the twins, the whole group gathered in the kitchen. Nell saw Mrs. Weasley eyeing Harry's thin body before offering food. Nell nodded to herself; she thoroughly approved of fattening up Harry.

Of course, the food was warmly welcomed by everyone. Mr. Weasley kept asking Nell and Harry questions about Muggles; Nell was rather bemused, but answered as well as she could. At least, she did as well as she could to explain things to a man who talked about fellytones and ekeltricity.

As conversation rambled on, Mrs. Weasley was looking more and more as if she wanted to ask Nell something. Finally, at a break in the barrage of questions, she spoke up.

"Why -- forgive me if it's none of my business, dear -- why do you have Harry at all? I mean, are you related, or --? I'm sorry, it's terribly tactless, but aren't you rather young?" Mrs. Weasley had a look that was an odd cross of motherly concern and inquisitiveness, but Nell thought it was rather charming.

"Well, I didn't really have much of a choice, did I?" said Nell. "The way they treated him --" she cut herself off, aware that Harry might not want his new friend to hear all about the cupboard. She met the other woman's gaze.

Mrs. Weasley frowned mightily, then cut her eyes over to Ron. "Ron, dear, would you take Harry for a ride on your Shooting Star, please?"

Ron nodded. "All right, Mum." He looked at Harry appraisingly. "Ever flown on a broom before?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Nah," he said, folding his arms across his chest, "but I was on a flying motorbike."

Ron looked impressed. "Cool," he breathed.

The two boys dashed out of the kitchen, Ginny and the twins close behind them. Nell and Mrs. Weasley looked at each other in amusement.

"What did you mean by that? How did they treat him? How do you know?" asked Mrs. Weasley in concern.

"Oh, it was awful, Mrs. Weasley --"

"Molly, dear."

Nell nodded, then continued. "They kept him in the cupboard under the stairs and punished him whenever he showed any sign of magic. I came to mind him every so often, and it got so outrageous that I simply couldn't let him stay there. Mr. Dumbledore reckons that Harry put some kind of compulsion on me to take him away and adopt him, but really all I had to do was look at him. He's half-starved, for heaven's sake!" Nell had to look away and dab at her eyes when she finished, and Mr. Weasley edged a scarlet handkerchief her way.

Molly turned and started bustling furiously around the kitchen. Nell could hear half-coherent, muttered imprecations as the cutlery flew and pots clanked. When Molly seemed to be composed enough to talk once more, Nell cleared her throat.

Before she could say anything (luckily, as she had no idea what she could say), an owl flew in the window.

Mr. Weasley casually untied the parcel around its leg. Nell was sure that her mouth was open with astonishment. "Curiouser and curiouser," she muttered, amazed. The Weasleys politely ignored her shock. Mr. Weasley unfolded the paper and winced.

"There's another Prophet out," he said shortly, tossing the paper down on the table and crossing his arms.

HARRY POTTER KIDNAPPED BY FORCE, the headline blared. Below it was a picture of Nell, complete with two black eyes, her arm around Harry protectively. It did rather look as though Nell had just fought her way out of some kind of prison with the boy.

Nell watched the picture with fascination as her image raised her other arm as a shield from the flashbulbs. Picture Harry gave her a shy little wave.


	13. Just Fascinating

Chapter thirteen 

Nell blinked. "Oh," she said blankly. She looked up and met Mrs. Weasley's shocked gaze. For some reason, the headline suddenly struck her as the funniest thing ever, and she broke up laughing. It was a lovely release, and after a moment, the Weasleys joined her. She refused to think about the more serious implications just then, enjoying the humour.

They were still chuckling when Harry came dashing back into the kitchen. "Nell, I flew! And Ron says I'm really good at it! Come watch me, and maybe you can have a go!" Harry grabbed Nell's wrist and began towing her out into the yard. Nell obligingly followed, rather eager to see a flying broomstick.

She was less eager when she saw the Weasley children fearlessly swooping around the sky, performing acrobatics more metres off the ground than Nell was quite comfortable with.

Harry dashed to a broomstick lying innocently on the ground, stuck his hand over top of it, and said firmly, "Up!" The broom thumped into his palm and he threw a leg over it. Before Nell could logically explain why flying on a flimsy piece of wood required care, supervision, and safety harnesses (or even shout "No! Don't!" which was her first instinct), Harry was in the air.

Even in her alarm, Nell could tell that Harry was a good flier. He seemed at home in the air, joining the Weasley children in their swoops and turns. His laugh rang out, and from the ground, Nell saw the broad grin spread across his face.

She melted. Suddenly, flying didn't seem quite so unreasonable. Not for the world would Nell keep Harry from doing this, if he kept that smile on his face.

Nell was rapt, gazing at the sky. After what seemed to be only moments, Harry landed.

"Would you like a go, Nell?" he asked politely.

"Oh, no, Harry," she hastily said. "Thanks, though!"

"Sure?" he asked. "Here, give it a try."

Nell hesitantly held her hand over the broom as she had seen Harry do, and said firmly, "UP!"

Nothing happened. One of the twins, flying overhead, shouted down, "Muggles can't fly, Harry!"

He looked downcast. "I wish you could fly, Nell," he said. "It's such fun."

"Oh, I imagine I'll get by," Nell said briskly. "Meanwhile, get yourself back on that broom."

Harry grinned and leapt back into the air, only mounting his broom once his feet were off the ground.

Nell snorted. Show-off. She grinned, and watched Harry for a moment longer before turning to return to the house.

Nell had only just returned to the kitchen when her mobile rang, and she fished it out of her pocket. Glancing at the display before popping it open, she sighed. She knew what was coming.

"Nell, for god's sake! You keep disappearing on us. Where are you now, and what's going on?" Emma's voice was shrill with indignation and alarm.

Nell could see Mr. Weasley staring at her in utter fascination. "Er, Emms, this isn't a great time. I'm safe, Harry's safe, but we had to do a runner for a bit. Is something wrong?"

Emma sighed huffily. "This is so unlike you, Nell."

"Never had a kid before, did I?" asked Nell wryly.

"Well, no," admitted Emma. "But still! We worry, you know that."

"Oh, Em, I'm dreadfully sorry. But I don't know when we'll be able to come back. I have a draft of my thesis to take in to the uni in the next few days, so I know I'll be in town then. Maybe we can meet for lunch?" Nell winced at the paucity of the suggestion, but Emma met it with apparent relief.

"Wonderful! That will be great, fine. I just want to know you're doing all right with Harry. And everything." Emma's voice had gone deliberately vague.

Nell turned her back to Mr. Weasley in an attempt at discretion. "You know I'm over Cecily. This has nothing to do with her, I swear."

Emma sighed. "Are you sure, love? I mean, you did say something about leaving town after everything that happened."

Nell blushed, glad that Emma couldn't see the flush. "You know I was right pissed when I said that," she hissed. "Besides, it's ages ago."

"Oh. Of course. Good to hear it," said Emma noncommittally. Nell wasn't quite sure that she believed her, but she was ready to drop the topic as well, and moved on to finalising their plans to meet.

When Nell rang off and closed the phone, she turned back around. Mrs. Weasley had long since busied herself elsewhere, but Mr. Weasley was still staring at her, enraptured.

No, not her. Her mobile phone.

"I thought fellytones had wires and things," said Mr. Weasley, inspecting the mobile in fascination.

"Oh, some of them do. But this kind is made to be carried around, and wires're scarcely practical, are they?" replied Nell.

"But how does it work, then, without magic?" persisted Mr. Weasley.

"Do wizards have mobile phones or anything like them?" asked Nell in response, avoiding an explanation that she wasn't sure she felt able to give.

"No-o, I don't think so," said Mr. Weasley, giving it a bit of thought. "Fascinatin' creatures, Muggles. Very inventive."

"Um, people?" asked Nell.

"Eh?" said Mr. Weasley, still engrossed with the 'phone.

"You mean, 'fascinating people,' right? Not creatures?" explained Nell.

He looked up. "Er, right, of course. People."


	14. Unexpected Visitors

Chapter fourteen 

Nell couldn't decide whether or not to follow up on this subtle slur, but before she could decide what to say, Mrs. Weasley spoke up.

"What are you going to do about the newspaper, dear? Are you going to tell the wizarding world the truth of the matter?"

Nell blinked. "You mean, I could just -- tell them? But wouldn't Dumbledore have to approve what I say? And how would I find a reporter? Plus, why should they believe me, a Muggle?"

Smiling, Mrs. Weasley held up her hands at this barrage of questions. "One at a time! Yes, Professor Dumbledore would have to give permission, but I don't see why you couldn't get your story ready to tell. It would give him something to approve, anyhow."

"And as far as finding a reporter goes, I work at the Ministry. They're always hanging 'round to find out what's happening. I could just bring a trustworthy one home to meet you and Harry, that's all," chimed in Mr. Weasley. "Of course they'd believe you -- you have Harry, don't you, and with Dumbledore's full knowledge.

Nell didn't feel particularly reassured. Mr. Weasley's reassurances now didn't feel half as honest as his casual dismissal of Muggles had, only moments before. But she forced a smile and promised to think about it.

Luckily, she was rescued from the incipent discussion of wizard/Muggle relations by the rowdy influx of the younger generation of Weasleys, plus Harry. The bright-faced youngsters crowded around the table, exclaiming at Harry's prowess as a Seeker (whatever that was) and demanding food or juice. Nell was utterly overwhelmed, and she watched in astonishment as Mrs. Weasley calmly processed the requests and conversation.

"How do you do it?" Nell asked in a temporary lull.

"What?" said Mrs. Weasley blankly. Nell gestured to the active children. "Oh! Practice, I suppose. My eldest three are off at school or abroad. By the time this lot came along, I'd nearly forgotten my name was anything but 'Mum!'"

Just then, a cry of, "Mum!" arose from Ginny's corner. Molly cast an exasperated, amused glance at Nell and went to tend her youngest. Nell chuckled to herself. At least she'd have some time to adjust to being called 'Mum', she supposed, if Harry even wanted to call her that at all.

A small hand slipped into hers. "Hi, mum," said Harry shyly. He looked up at her questioningly, looking for her response. She did her best not to let her shock show on her face -- was Harry a mind-reader? -- before she stooped and swept Harry into a tight embrace.

She didn't know what Molly was talking about -- 'Mum' was the best word in the universe.

Too soon, Harry squirmed away, straightening his shirt and looking to make sure his new friend hadn't seen the hug. But he cast Nell a surreptitious grin.

She smiled back before leaning down and whispering exaggeratedly, "Did anyone see that?"

Harry giggled and shook his head. Nell pounced on him, tickling his ribs in retaliation. "How about that, huh? This? This?"

Harry shrieked with laughter and the other children dashed over to watch the fun. The twins promptly began to torment Ron and Ginny similarly, and the kitchen rang with shouts and laughs.

The tickling/wrestling matches only ended when Mrs. Weasley came over and started yelling, "Children, behave! In front of your -- guests…" her voice trailed off as she saw Nell right in the thick of the battle, looking as guilty as the other combatants. Mrs. Weasley smiled at her indulgently before scowling at her own brood.

"Oh, it was my fault, Mrs. Wea -- er, Molly. I started it, it's not their fault," spoke up Nell.

Mrs. Weasley drifted away, casting an admonishing glare over her shoulder at the small crowd. This time, Nell was the first to start giggling.

"Hey," said Harry, "wanna see something cool?" Ron and the twins leaned in eagerly. "I have this book that insults you when you talk to it. It's wicked!"

"Where does it keep its brain?" asked Fred (or George; Nell, of course, had no idea how to tell them apart).

Harry looked puzzled. "What do you mean, brain? It doesn't have one."

The other twin spoke up. "It's something Dad says all the time. 'Don't trust anything if you don't know where it keeps it brain'." The twins chorused the line together.

Harry looked concerned. "But -- but I just -- it's just fun. Why do you have to know about its brain?"

The twins looked at each other and shrugged. "No worries, mate. We don't mind." Ron shrugged as well, clearly imitating the twins. Ginny followed suit.

Nell wasn't quite as sure about the advisability of trusting the book's authors, but then, she hadn't been sure before now, either. At least they were amusing, if they couldn't be trustworthy, she mused, as the group moved up to Ron's room, where Harry had stashed his knapsack.

"Er, hello," said Harry hesitantly, opening the book.

_Mr. Moony would like to inquire why it took so long for young Potter to return._

**Mr. Padfoot would like to register his irritation and boredom.**

"How do you even know time has passed?" asked Nell curiously.

Mr. Wormtail begs to inform Miss Burton that she and young Potter failed to clear the book before closing it. 

"Oh!" said Nell. "How do we do that? And, er, why?"

Mr. Wormtail regrets that the passwords are confidential, as is the nature of passwords. He does, however, explain that the phrase, once uttered, will restore the book and its inhabitants to a state of limbo that is considerably more comfortable than not.

**Mr. Padfoot would like those present to commence guessing passwords; he never fails to find it amusing.**

_Mr. Moony seconds that request._

**_Mr. Prongs would like to speak more of James Potter._**

"Mr. Potter would like to, also," piped up Harry, getting into the spirit of the occasion.

"What is this book, Harry? Who's writing?" said Ron, who was looking utterly bewildered.

"It's _wicked_," breathed a twin.

"Think we could do something like that?" asked the other. They looked at each other speculatively.

_Mr. Moony would like to inquire who else is present. He is bashful._

**Mr. Padfoot would like to register his amusement at this statement.**

As would Mr. Wormtail.

**_And Mr. Prongs._**

Harry giggled. "It's the Weasleys. Ron and Fred and George and Ginny."

_Mr. Moony asks if these are the children of Molly and Arthur._

"Yeah!" gasped Ron, in deeply impressed tones. "D'you know them? How? Who are you?"

**_Mr. Prongs would like to state that the writers of this book are omnipotent. We know all and see all._**

**Mr. Padfoot would add his solemn agreement.**

This time, Nell snorted. But the children were looking in wide-eyed awe at the book. She rolled her eyes.

"Well?" she asked. "Who are you?"

**_Mr. Prongs regrets that he cannot disclose that information at the present time. He would, however, like to state that the names of James Potter and his close associates are not unfamiliar ones._**

"Can you tell me any more about my parents?" Harry asked hesitantly.

**Mr. Padfoot would like to amend his earlier statements about the elder Potter's worthlessness. He is willing to concede that Mr. Potter may have some redeeming characteristics.**

**_Mr. Prongs would like to inquire after the identity of the young man's mother._**

_Mr. Moony is interested as well._

"Er, I think her name was Lily? Her sister is Petunia Evans Dursley. I'm not really sure," confessed Harry.

There was no writing for a long moment.

**_Er, Lily Evans?_** Mr. Prongs' writing was hesitant and lacked the stylistic form of which Nell had begun to tire. **_Really? Did she have red hair and green eyes? That Lily Evans?_**

"Er, that sounds like her. She's really pretty," said Harry.

**Mr. Padfoot would like to --**

"Oh, stop," said Nell in irritation. "You can write as you would speak, for heaven's sake."

**Oh. Right then. Woo woo, Prongs! Managed to pull the fair Lily!**

"Oh!" said Nell. "Is Prongs James Potter?" Thinking back, she wasn't too surprised, although she didn't think she'd have guessed on her own.

Padfoot, you nit! Can't you keep a secret for more than two bloody minutes?

**_Yes indeed, I am of the noble and most ancient House of Potter._**

**Shut it with the 'noble's and 'ancient's, you ponce. **

**_Oh, look who's calling whom a ponce, ponce!_**

Nell watched in amusement as the authors seemed to forget their audience, facilely insulting each other in a stream of steadily bluer language.

She cleared her throat as the children's eyes widened. She could see the twins taking mental notes, and she really didn't want to give Molly cause to get any more annoyed with her. The writers didn't pause, and she reached out and slammed the book shut.

"Well!" she said brightly. "Why don't we come back to this later?

The twins looked deeply disappointed.

Just then, they heard Mrs. Weasley calling them downstairs.

They trooped down the stairs and into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was standing by the large kitchen fireplace, beaming. "Your brother Bill's agreed to come by for dinner! Isn't it nice that he's so near?"

"But he came home last night," piped up Ginny. "He said he had plans tonight."

Mrs. Weasley seemed to grit her teeth. "Well, he didn't tell me about any plans. And he'll be here tonight."

Ginny looked skeptical, but held her tongue.

Nell sighed. She knew where this was going. Just look, Bill would be in his early twenties, single, eligible. And the type of nice son willing to be set up at a moment's notice by his mother.

Not that it mattered, really. Just once, couldn't it be someone's nice _daughter_? Why did she always get the sons?

Just then, the fire glowed green, and a young man stepped out of the flames.

Nell gaped. So that's what Dumbledore had been on about with the fireplaces. Whoa. She caught Harry gawking as well.

"This is Bill," said Mrs. Weasley, beaming with pride.


	15. A Truth Revealed and Reviled

**Chapter fifteen**

"Bill, this is Nell Burton and Harry Potter," said Mrs. Weasley. He nodded solemnly, but his eyes twinkled at Nell. She found it much more charming than Dumbledore's twinkle, but she still wasn't eager to navigate the minefield of the attempted set-up.

Harry stretched out his hand politely, and Bill soberly shook it. Nell followed suit. Bill held her hand a little bit longer than he had Harry's. She tried not to draw her hand back too quickly for politeness' sake, but she suspected her retreat may have been a bit swift. If it was, Bill gave no outward sign.

"Well!" said Mr. Weasley, rubbing his hands together. "Is dinner nearly ready, dear?"

"Just a few minutes," she replied. "Why don't you lot head into the family room and chat?"

Nell managed to seat Harry between herself and Bill. Harry was looking at the young man in fascination. Nell thought he looked quite interesting, as well.

He was exactly the kind of young man Vernon Dursley would have dismissed as a 'hoodlum', she thought. Long hair, earring, leather boots. Harry, of course, was enthralled.

"How are you, Harry?" Bill asked jovially. "Like your new mum?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I like her. I think I'll keep her," he added slyly.

Bill barked a laugh. "But will she keep you is the question, kiddo," he said.

Harry looked worriedly up at Nell. She slid her hand reassuringly onto his and squeezed. He smiled slightly and looked back at Bill. "Yeah, I think she'll keep me. I bring joy into her dull, grey life," he said, apparently quite seriously.

Nell shook with suppressed giggles, but when Harry met her eyes, she couldn't stop her laugh. Harry joined her, and after a moment, Bill did too.

Over their laughs, Mrs. Weasley called them into the kitchen for dinner.

Once more, through some quick finagling and by avoiding eye contact with Molly, Nell seated Harry between herself and Bill. He didn't seem to mind -- or notice. Instead, he launched into a wild tale about goblins and cursed gold.

And then another. And another. Finally, to break the chain of the progressively wilder and wilder stories, Nell asked, "What do you do for a living, Bill?"

"Oh, didn't I say?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm a curse-breaker for Gringotts Bank. I'm working at the London branch for now, but I'm hoping to get an assignment abroad in the next couple of years."

"Is -- were those stories true, then?" asked Nell, feeling overwhelmed and a bit silly.

"Every word," he averred, although his eyes were a bit too merry for Nell to quite believe him.

To her surprise, the meal was pleasant. Mrs. Weasley avoided any overt matchmaking, and Bill enthralled Harry and his younger siblings with his tall tales. In turn, Harry regaled him with the story of his new, talkative journal. At the telling, Mr. Weasley looked concerned, and Nell made eye contact, nodding at him. He'd want to see the journal, and frankly, she'd feel better if he did so sooner rather than later.

It was after dinner, when they had gathered in the family room, that the trouble started.

Molly began innocuously, if obviously, enough. "What does your boyfriend think about you adopting Harry, Nell?"

"Oh," she said casually, "I haven't a boyfriend."

"Are you worried about getting one now that you have a child to take care of?" At this question, Harry's concerned gaze shot to Nell's face.

"No," she said firmly. "Anyone I date will have to love Harry as much as I do." He looked relieved.

"Then you might do better to date in the wizarding world -- it's a safe bet that they'd probably love him already, just for being the Boy-Who-Lived."

Nell scowled. "They'll have to love him better than that. All your children lived, after all, didn't they?"

Silence fell. She cocked her head, realising that she had just made a major error. "Oh God. I'm sorry, didn't they?"

Molly sighed. "We had a daughter, between Charlie and Percy. We were a target during the War -- Arthur's never been shy about his political views -- and she wandered too far from the wards. We were lucky -- we found her body. So many didn't, you know." She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief her husband quietly handed her.

"Oh, God," said Nell, feeling utterly horrified at her casual words. "I'm so sorry."

"So you can see why we honour our children so much," said Molly, recovering but still a bit damp-eyed.

Nell nodded. "Of course."

Molly's line of questioning dried up for the time being, and they conversed on more light topics -- Mr. Weasley's latest confiscation, the twins' pranks, Bill's anecdotes.

But the reprieve couldn't last, Nell well knew.

Sure enough, Molly began again. This time, she started with Bill. "Are you dating again, dear?" She added, parenthetically to Nell, "He recently broke up with his Hogwarts' sweetheart."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," she said sympathetically. "I had a bad breakup recently myself. Are you still friends?"

Bill nodded. "It was completely mutual -- she wanted me to settle down, and I wanted her to come to Peru or Egypt or wherever with me. So we decided to part as friends, and maybe meet up when our priorities go together better."

"Oh, that's a bad idea," said Nell immediately. "Cecily wanted to try again after a bit, and it just made everything three times harder. Once you have an end, let it stay an end."

"Who's Cecily, dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley mildly.

Nell hadn't noticed that she'd said Cecily's name out loud. She cringed inwardly; she hadn't really intended to come out to her safe-house hosts if she could avoid it, in case of any unpleasantness. Harry had to stay here, where he'd be protected.

She sighed. No hope for it, and maybe the Weasleys would take it as well as her mother had. "Oh, Cecily is my ex-girlfriend," she said, no sign of her inner turmoil showing.

Mrs. Weasley gasped. "_Girl_friend?" Nell nodded. Mrs. Weasley's eyes blazed. "How dare you try to adopt a child! Doesn't he deserve a stable home life? How do you think you're going to give him that, if you're out living that kind of lifestyle?"

"What kind of lifestyle, exactly, do you think I live?" Nell asked evenly. She maintained a serene expression, but inwardly, she was cursing a bluer streak than the Marauder book. Damn, damn, _damn._ She'd thought better of Molly, really.

She cast a sudden look at Harry. He was listening, wide-eyed. She smiled hesitantly at him, and he smiled back, just as hesitant. She gestured to him, and he came to sit closely next to her. As long as Harry didn't mind, she supposed, she could take whatever Molly said.

Currently, Molly was sputtering like an over-boiled kettle.

Mr. Weasley was calmer; calm enough to explain Molly's overreaction. "The wizarding world is small, Nell. A woman deciding not to have chidren -- well, it's not considered to be very responsible. The prejudice against Muggleborn wizards and witches is dying down, I hope, but most witches still want large families."

Nell snorted. "Doesn't sound like the prejudice has died down much," she said, indicating Molly, who puffed up even more at this flippancy.

"It's downright selfish!" she exclaimed. "And it's not _decent_."

"Now, Mum --" started Bill.

"Don't you 'now mum' me, William!" she screeched. "You!" she turned her fulminating glare back on Nell, who recognised the signs of a bawling-out, now that Molly -- or Mrs. Weasley now, she supposed -- had regained her senses. And volume. Nell winced.

Harry was listening to all this quietly, and when Nell sneaked a glance at him, he had his eyes shut tightly. She was surprised, really, that Mrs. Weasley hadn't sent the children from the room. She supposed that the other woman had simply forgotten.

Suddenly, "Shut up!" said Harry, jumping up from his seat. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" And he dashed from the room as if his heels were on fire. Ron barrelled after him. Ginny and the twins must have sneaked out earlier, Nell absently noted. She hadn't exactly been paying attention, the last few minutes.

The shouting stopped. Nell looked away from the door. Mrs. Weasley was holding her throat, her eyes wide.


	16. Not a Quick Fix

**Chapter sixteen**

It was Mr. Weasley's turn to shout, but he only gave one brief cry of alarm before reaching for his wand. A look of relief passed over his face, and he said, "Oh, it's only a silencing charm. Nothing to worry about, Molly."

She glared at him; clearly, she _was_ worried about it.

"I think I might let it wear off on its own," he continued mildly. "It will give you some time to cool off and realise exactly what you were saying, and to whom."

"Right, Mum," agreed Bill. "I was about to do it myself. What was the problem?"

Mrs. Weasley suddenly deflated and collapsed into a chair, passing a hand over her face. She pointed her own wand at herself and mouthed some words, then cleared her throat experimentally.

"I'm so sorry for overreacting, dear," said Molly repentantly. "I'd had such hopes for you and Bill. You two seemed to hit it off, and I suppose I let my imagination run away with me. You'd been at the point of marriage by pudding."

"And I'd supposed you'd named the children before we reached the family room," said Nell rather sarcastically.

"Well, I _was_ thinking what nice names Anne and Elisabeth were --"

Nell snorted. "It's all right, Molly," she said reassuringly. "I was trying not to seem too cosy with Bill -- I was afraid that's what you were doing."

"Nice of you," said Bill. Nell shared a quick smile with him.

Molly winced. "Yes, well, of course I hadn't any right to shout at you like that, no matter what I was thinking. It certainly wasn't my place, and I am sorry to upset you. I don't mind what Muggles do, really. Your life is your own."

Nell was left unsatisfied -- more Muggle/wizard distinctions! -- by this explanation, but she felt she rather had to take the sentiment in the spirit it was intended, and assured Molly once more that there were no hard feelings on her side. "I don't mind being shouted at, really, but what about Harry? Poor dear, he was so upset."

Molly looked even more chagrined. "Oh, no! I should probably go apologise to him as well, poor thing."

"Er, Molly? Perhaps it would be better if I spoke to him first. Reassure him that he's not in trouble -- well, not too much trouble -- for shouting at you like that."

Molly nodded her agreement. "I did deserve it, dear, but you can't let him go about silencing everyone who deserves to be."

"No one would ever talk again," said Nell flippantly.

Mr. Weasley grinned and opened his mouth to speak, but Mrs. Weasley cut him off. "It's awfully late, dear. We'd better be off to bed."

"You go ahead," said Nell. "I'll just run up and talk to Harry for a bit. I'm in Ginny's room, right?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded, and the elder Weasleys trooped off to bed. Bill grinned at her and went to the fireplace. He took a flowerpot off the mantle and grabbed a good pinch of some powder.

"What on earth is that?" asked Nell, momentarily distracted from her mission.

"Floo powder," he said casually. Seeing her look of confusion, he added, "It's a way to travel through a series of connected fireplaces. Watch!"

He tossed the powder into the fire, turning it green. He shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and stepped into the flame -- and vanished.

Nell raised her eyebrows, impressed, then turned back to her task.

When she'd reached Ron's room, she tapped lightly on the door. "Harry? Are you there? We need to talk." She tried to turn the doorknob, but the room was locked.

There was a bit of hurried whispering, and then Ron called out, "He's asleep!"

"Then who were you just talking to?" Nell retorted.

"Er, no one?" Ron asked.

"All right, Harry, have it your way," she said exasperatedly. "But we will have to talk about this tomorrow, I promise you that!"

With this unsatisfying promise, Nell retired for the night.

The next morning, breakfast was rather awkward. Nell and the elder Weasleys had risen before any of the children. Nell, not being a morning person, was rather grumpy and less inclined to be gracious than she had the previous night. She stayed quiet over her cup of tea, and the Weasleys followed her lead.

There is no telling how long they would have remained in silence but for the hasty arrival of Ron in the kitchen.

"Mum! Dad! Nell!" the boy shouted. "I can't find Harry, and his knapsack's gone missing!"

Mrs. Weasley gasped, and her hand went up to her throat. Nell felt the blood rush from her head and she swayed dizzily.

Only Mr. Weasley stayed completely calm. "Well, it isn't as it he could have gotten far. He couldn't have been gone long and -- Ron? Did you check the brooms?"

Ron shook his head and dashed from the room, hurrying out to the shed. When he returned a moment later, his eyes were wide. "He took my Shooting Star!" he said indignantly. "Wanker!"

Mrs. Weasley made a choking sound and Nell deliberately didn't look at her. That new addition to Ron's vocabulary had been courtesy of the Marauders.

"Oh dear," said Mr. Weasley in a rather choked voice. "Language, Ron."

"How are we to find Harry?" asked Nell, a bit panicky.

"He'll turn up," said Mr. Weasley confidently. "Those brooms never seem to wander far," he added, winking at Nell.

This was apparently supposed to reassure her; it did not. "What do you mean by that?" she asked sharply. "Aren't you even going to help me look for him?"

"The broom is enchanted to only go out for a couple of miles at most," he explained. "After that, it starts to circle around. He'll be back here inside an hour."

"But what if he gets off the broom, or started out walking?" retorted Nell. "If we wait, then he's got an hour's head start and a broom!"

He nodded, furrowing his brow. "By all means, let us search."

She hesitated. "Can you tell me where he's likely to have gone? I'd rather like to speak to him alone before he comes back."

"Certainly, certainly," said Mr. Weasley. "If he's afoot, the back path leads to the orchard and the front walk straight to Ottery St. Catchpole."

"Thank you," said Nell. "I'll just take a quick dekko through the orchard. Are there any good hiding spots?" she asked Ron.

"Er," he said, screwing up his face in concentration, "None Harry would know about yet. The orchard's kind of overgrown -- lots of bushes. He might be there. But I bet he's off flying around on my broom," he added, scowling.

Sure enough, when Nell stepped outside and cast a quick eye over the sky, the first thing she saw was a tiny figure that, squinting, she guessed to be Harry and his knapsack. He didn't seem to be in a big hurry to depart, performing lazy spirals and loops.

"Harry!" she shouted, waving her arms. "Harry!"

He spotted her after a moment, and his flight slowed. He seemed reluctant to return to the ground, and he led Nell quite a distance away from the Burrow before he dismounted.

When he was firmly on the ground, Nell swept him up into a tight hug. Once more, he seemed shocked at receiving a hug instead of a scolding after a round of accidental magic.

"Are you okay?" demanded Nell, holding him at arm's length. "How long have you been flying?"

"Not too long," he said. "I just wanted a quick morning ride."

"So you took your knapsack?" said Nell, cocking her head to the side.

He blushed. "Er, yeah?"

"Harry," she said, sighing, "we should probably talk about what happened last night. Not just the shouting and magic, but what we said before."

"Oh, that you're gay?" asked Harry. "Anna up at my school has two mums. Is it --" he hesitated, "Does it mean that you have to give me up, the way Mrs. Weasley reacted?"

"No!" exclaimed Nell. "Harry, you're mine, no matter what. And if they try, we'll run away together!"

He smiled wanly. But she continued. "Harry, you can't do magic on people whenever they make you angry. It isn't fair, and it's dangerous. You have to learn to control yourself."

"So people are allowed to just yell at you all they want?" he asked, upset.

"Well, yes," she said cautiously. "It's up to that person to stop yelling. I'm not saying I'm not grateful, mind," she grinned. He smiled back, appearing relieved that she'd stopped lecturing.

"Want to watch me fly a bit more?" he asked, taking up the broom.

"Maybe later today? We should go inside -- people are worried about you. And your friend Ron is worried about his broom!"

Harry looked a bit concerned. "Do you think he minds that I took his broom?"

"I certainly think he was worried that you'd taken it forever. You should probably apologise, yes," said Nell firmly.

He nodded and hung his head.

When they returned to the house, Dumbledore was sitting in the kitchen, calmly drinking a cup of tea.

As soon as they'd entered, before anyone else could say anything, Molly stood up and walked to them. "I'm sorry for shouting at Nell, Harry," Molly said, stooping slightly to look him in the eyes. "I hope you can forgive me for being so rude."

"Er, it's okay, I guess," said Harry, squirming. "Why were you so upset? What does it matter if Nell's gay?"

It was Mrs. Weasley's turn to squirm. "Well, I'm worried about how she's going to be able to protect you, dear. Not only is she a Muggle, but she won't have a man around the house."

"She'll have me!" said Harry indignantly. "It's us against the world, Nell says. And if you're shouting at her," he said, eyes narrowing, "then I need to protect her from you."

Molly patted his shoulder. "You don't need to protect anyone, Harry. Everything's fine. We sorted out our difficulties after you left."

He looked skeptical, but didn't challenge her. Nell suspected it was only through politeness that he didn't squirm out from under Molly's hand. It was a shame, this bad start, she reflected. Molly was so eager to do right by Harry, and she'd have to work doubly hard to regain his trust now.

"Well," said Dumbledore, looking at them, "How are we this morning?"

"Oh, we're fine," said Nell lightly. "As long as there's no more newspaper articles about us!"

Looking at the others' carefully blank expressions, her heart sank. "There aren't, are there?"

"They've guessed your location," said Dumbledore heavily. "I'm afraid I'll have to move you both as soon as possible."

"Why can't we speak to them?" asked Nell. "I mean, won't they leave us alone once they have their story?"

"That is a possibility," replied Dumbledore, "If you are both willing to tell it. However, we must make sure that your next location remains secret -- reporters are not the only wizards who wish to seek out young Harry."

"Ah," said Nell, "I'd nearly forgotten. Evil insane wizard minions."

Caught off guard, Mr. Weasley chuckled. Nell grinned.


	17. More Explanations

**Chapter seventeen**

"There should be no problem with you giving an interview, at the very least," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "Arthur, can you bring a trustworthy reporter here tonight?"

"Tonight?" said Mr. Weasley, startled. "Of course, but so soon?"

"Certainly," replied Dumbledore. "I think it would be best if Harry and Miss Burton gave the interview here, where they know that she has been, and then depart. With any luck, the interview will satisfy enough to prevent further invasions of privacy."

"Do I have to say anything?" Harry asked nervously.

"Not if you don't want to," said Nell automatically. Then she looked at Dumbledore. "He doesn't, does he?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "You ought to be present, however, please, Harry."

Harry nodded. "As long as I don't have to talk," he said.

"Where will we be sent next, after the interview's done?" asked Nell after a moment.

"We need to discuss that. If it is possible for you to stay with Muggle friends or relatives, that may be for the best."

"Well, my lease is nearly up -- it's uni housing and I'm about to graduate. Should I let a new apartment somewhere?" Nell proposed, not about to go stay with her mother and not really willing to impose on her friends for any length.

"After a bit," he told her. "We'll help you locate a suitable residence. We'll have to ward it before you move in, but be assured that we are working to find you a safe place to stay."

Nell had to accept this, she supposed. She had a further request. "May I go to London today? I need to meet up with a friend and I have business at the uni, and it seems like today would be the best day to be seen about. Perhaps I could find a friend to stay with?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Please leave Harry here, however. We can set up some temporary wards around the Burrow, but the sooner you leave, the better."

"Why can't I go?" asked Harry querously.

"It's not safe, Harry," said Dumbledore, shaking his head.

"Besides," Nell added, "wouldn't you rather fly some more?"

Harry brightened and ran off to find Ron -- and his broom.

Nell watched him go with an indulgent smile, then excused herself and followed him up the stairs to collect her research things.

On the way to her room, she flipped open her mobile and rang Emma.

"Can you meet today, Em?" she asked when Emma picked up the 'phone.

"Nell?" Emma asked. "Er, sure, I think so. When?"

"Two hours? Our usual place."

"Can do, luv. See you then!"

Nell rang off, satisfied.

After she'd gathered her books and disks, Nell headed back downstairs.

"How do I get to London from here?" she asked cautiously.

"You can Floo, if you feel up to it," said Mr. Weasley. "Here, I'll go first to make sure you come out all right. Just drop the Floo powder into the fire, step in, and say 'Diagon Alley'. Be sure to be nice and clear!"

She followed his lead. As she shouted the odd name, she felt the ashes fly into her nose and throat. When she stepped out of the fireplace into a dark, smoky tavern, she could scarcely breathe. Mr. Weasley patted her back in concern as she wheezed and coughed, but when she'd recovered, he smiled at her and disappeared with a POP.

Nell left the tavern and found herself in the middle of London.

She took the tube to her university, where she visited the library to print out the latest draft of her thesis. She popped by her advisor's office to drop it off, but he wasn't there.

Left with an abundance of free time until her meeting with Emma, Nell windowshopped her way to their usual café, trying to decide how on earth she'd explain this fantastical situation.

The truth was always best, she decided. She'd tell her everything, from the beginning.

Decision made, Nell allowed herself to be distracted from her introspection at the sight of an absolutely fantastic skirt in the next shop's window, and she browsed happily until it was time to meet Emma.

They arrived at the café at nearly the same time and got a table next to the window. Emma restrained herself until they'd been served, chatting desultorily, but once the waitress had vanished, she pounced.

"And now, Nell, for God's sake, tell me what's been happening to you!" exclaimed Emma.

"It's like this, Emma --" started Nell after a deep breath.

"So let me get this straight," said Emma incredulously. "They don't think these, these non-magical people --"

"--Muggles--"

"--right, Muggles, are even real people?"

"No, I don't think it's as bad as that. It's more like, we're a kind of children, or some really smart pet. The nicer ones, like the Weasleys, want to protect Muggles, and want equal rights for Muggleborn wizards. But there was this evil guy --"

"--Lord Voldy-thingie?--" Emma snorted. "Now there's a name to strike terror into innocent hearts."

"--Lord Volde -- yeah, something like that. Anyway, this guy wanted to kill off all the Muggleborns and purify the wizarding world. And he didn't even think the Muggles are _sentient_, let alone people." She raised her eyebrow. "Compensating for something, do you think?"

"So he went around killing people in the name of purity. Not exactly a new story. Did he kill a lot of people?"

"Well, comparatively. The wizarding world lost a lot of the most prominent families, and there weren't a whole lot of them. As best I understand, there was a kind of terrorist rule. The opposition group just wasn't well-enough organised to have any kind of effect on saving the wizards -- and they certainly didn't manage to protect any Muggles," she added with a twist in her voice. "And this went on for something like _eleven years_."

Emma breathed out. "Whew! How did they stand it?"

"Well, they're still reeling, eight years later, so I'm guessing not very well," said Nell wryly. "Anyway, James Potter learned that he and his wife were targets, as active members of the opposition group. So they went into deep hiding, but they were betrayed, and Lord Whoever went to go kill them." Emma gasped, but Nell ignored her and continued flatly. "He did. Kill them. But he tried to kill Harry, and his spell rebounded on himself and he -- well, they think he died. So Harry is called the Boy-Who-Lived and he's a folk hero. They practically worship his name, and all because he lived when his parents died."

Emma stared for a long minute, then broke out laughing. "You're having me on! Have you abandoned social work for fiction, Nell? You'd be a natural!"

Nell stared her down. Emma's laughter became more and more uneasy, until it faded for good. "You're -- you're serious? This is real?" Nell nodded, and Emma looked shaken. "Oh, poor Harry! Famous for being an orphan!"

Nell nodded. "You wouldn't believe some of the things people have said about him. They ask if he isn't glad that he defeated Lord whoever, ask what he remembers from that night, things like that. I keep waiting for him to snap at them and say something about his parents, but he's such a polite boy. It's nice, of course, but a little worrying. I think those Dursleys really did a number on him."

Emma clucked sympathetically and patted Nell's shoulder. "You're doing fine, dear. He seems happy and well-adjusted with you. There haven't been any incidents, have there?"

"Only one," Nell admitted. "He ran away this morning. But that was because he thought he'd hurt Molly. She'd been shouting at me and he made her lose her voice. But we found him soon enough, and he was reassured pretty easily, especially after Molly apologised to him." Nell grinned. "That was pretty funny. I don't think Harry's ever had a grown-up apologise to him. He didn't quite know what to say!"

Emma smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "What do you mean, he made her lose her voice?"

"He cast an accidental Silencing Charm," Nell explained. "He does magic like that when he gets upset."

"Does he do that often?" Emma asked nervously.

"No-o, not really," said Nell. "I've seen it a lot, but then, he was upset a lot at the Dursleys. He's gotten loads better."

Emma nodded. "Has he ever cast magic against you? I mean, you can't be his playmate all the time, and he's bound to get mad at you."

Nell frowned. "No, he's never done anything against me. I gather it takes quite a lot, and he seems to recognise when someone's being fair. He's big on fairness -- it's very cute," she added fondly.

Emma groaned. "Nell, love, you'd think he was cute if he was putting voodoo curses on you every day!" They broke into giggles.

"So," Nell said, changing the subject, "This Dumbledore says that we need to change locations pretty often for the next while. I was wondering if we could kip in your spare room for a few days?"

"Oh," said Emma looking uncomfortable but happy (it was a very strange expression), "er, my Andrew's actually moving in. He -- um -- he proposed last weekend."

"What!" exclaimed Nell. "When, exactly, were you planning to tell me?"

"When I asked you to be my maid of honour?" Emma said impishly.

"Oh!" And Nell reached across the table to give Emma a quick, hard hug. "Of course I will! Oh, my!" They were both grinning -- Nell hard enough to hurt her face.


	18. London Business

**Chapter eighteen**

Nell glanced at her watch and yelped. "Oh! I'm so late. I have to dash, Em, love. I need to catch Professor Carlson before I head back."

"Go, go," Emma waved her off. "Come visit us -- Andrew misses you too, and everyone else, of course. Ring Audrey, I bet she has a spare room -- her flatmate's just left, the dozy cow."

"I'll do that -- thanks for the tip! And now I really must run." Nell got up and gathered her things. "Oh! I nearly forgot -- here's my share." She handed Emma a 5 pound note, kissed her cheek, and dashed.

She made it to Dr. Carlson's office just as the professor was locking up.

"Oh," she said in disappointment, and at the sound of her voice, his head jerked up and the keys in his hand fell to the ground.

"Nell!" he bellowed. "What was that message about? How's your family?"

She waved her hand. "Oh, well, things are quite strange 'round my place. I've a new son, now things have shaken out a bit. He's fantastic," she said fondly. As her advisor blinked in shock, she blithely continued. "But I have a new draft of my thesis for you -- I did manage to make those revisions like you said. Here," and she pushed her parcel into his hands.

He nearly dropped it, seemingly still agog at her news. "A son, Nell? How -- who -- what?" Her wonderfully articulate mentor was clearly not at his best, she thought, frowning slightly.

"His name is Harry, he's eight. Er, it's quite a long story, but it turns out his guardians hadn't been treating him very well at all, and now he's mine." She cocked her head to the side consideringly. "That's all that matters, really."

She watched Dr. Carlson's face contort. Finally, he heaved a great sigh. "Right. Son. Okay," he paused, "you'd better come in, we do have something besides the thesis to talk about." He explained as he grabbed the keys from the ground to unlocked the door and they walked into his office, "I have a colleague, in private research, who was asking about finding a postgraduate fellow. I put your name up, and he was interested. If you like, the position is practically yours -- just send him your vita."

Nell grinned and clapped her hands. "Oh, I was just wondering what on earth I'd do after school! Obviously, things had to change around with Harry in the picture and all. What does the job entail? How long does the grant money last for me? Who's the friend?"

"I'll take those questions in reverse," said Dr. Carlson, smiling at her enthusiasm. "It's David Maksymowicz that you'd be working with, for two years unless the grant gets renewed, and you'd be his research assistant. One of them, at least. It's wonderful experience," he added.

She sat down and stayed still for a moment, then made a quick decision. What could it hurt to send in her CV? "Do you have my vita on file?" she asked.

"I believe so," he said absently, beginning to dig through his files. "It may be rather old. Ah, no, here it is -- no changes since January, correct?"

"That's right," confirmed Nell. "Will you go ahead and send it to him? When would it begin?"

"I'd be delighted, my dear," he said excitedly. "Oh, this will be wonderful for you! And his grant money doesn't come through until July 1st, so if you decided to go for it, that's when you'd officially start getting paid."

She grinned until her face ached, rising from her seat. "I'm sorry not to stay and chat, but I should be getting back. I'm a bit nervous leaving Harry for so long. That's wonderful news! If there's nothing else...? Thanks so much!" And once more Nell dashed.

She didn't get very far, however. In the hallway, she ran headlong into her child psychology professor, making her drop everything she'd been carrying. Blushing, she helped gather the other woman's belongings.

"How have you been, Miss Burton? Have you gotten your family problems sorted?" she asked.

Nell rolled back on her heels. "Not exactly, Professor Meyer. I've recently had to relocate, but we're still trying to get settled."

"We?" inquired the professor, raising an eyebrow. "You and -- your 'family emergency', was it?"

"I have a bit of a confession about that," Nell said, rubbing at her temples. "Honestly, that was the thing I could think of. He was more like a ward, then. A charge. But I've actually adopted him in the meantime."

Her professor looked shocked. "Oh, my!"

Nell nodded. "Exactly. I'm not really quite sure how it happened, really. I'm a bit dizzy at the speed of all this. I've been meaning to talk to you, really. Is there any way I can take the exam early? The situation with Harry is -- complicated."

Her professor looked sympathetic, but shook her head. "I'm afraid not. I can overlook your absence in lecture, but that's as far as my mercy goes."

"Thank you," said Nell, shrugging. "I didn't really expect you could."

"If you need to chat, my door is always open. But for now, I have a department meeting," Professor Meyer said apologetically. "I'll talk to you soon, I hope, Miss Burton."

"I'll come to see you when I can, Professor," said Nell. "Thanks again."

Nell left the building, heading for the Underground. While she walked, she flipped open her mobile and dialed Audrey. Audrey didn't answer, and Nell left a cheery, teasing message asking to be called back.

On the tube, returning to her original stop, Nell suddenly realised that she had no idea how she was to return to the Burrow. She hadn't paid particular attention to her surroundings, and while she was fairly certain which pub they'd Floo'd into, she couldn't remember how to get back to it.

She was stranded.


	19. Saved! But New Problems Arise

**Chapter Nineteen**

She wandered. Wandered aimlessly through London, hoping that she was getting closer to that shabby little pub. She recognized the bookstore and record store that she knew had been nearby, but the pub seemed to have vanished.

Giving up, she sat on the kerb to rest. She idly watched the cars and the pedestrians racing past, not really expecting to see anyone she recognised.

She didn't. But she did happen to see someone wearing robes amidst the crowd. She sat up, watching the young woman carefully, planning to ask her for directions. But suddenly, the witch veered away from the crowd, pulled open a door that hadn't been there before, and vanished.

Nell leapt to her feet. She managed to grab the door handle before it closed, but she couldn't really see the doorway. If she squinted, she could see a darkness, but she had difficulty seeing past the bricks. It was an odd sensation. She closed her eyes and walked forward, expecting to bang into the bricks.

When no such impact came, she opened her eyes in relief. It was obviously the correct pub, she noted, recognising the bartender and the rather odd clientele.

She still didn't quite know how to get back to the Weasleys', but at least she was back in the wizarding world.

She was still idly watching the young woman she'd followed into the pub, and so she noticed her take a small pot off the mantel, toss some Floo powder into the fire, and say "The Burrow!" Nell perked up.

She waited a moment, then did the same. As the fireplaces swirled by, she was hoping desperately that there was only one 'Burrow' in England.

When she opened her eyes, she saw the cheerful, friendly kitchen of the Burrow. She let out a breath of relief that she hadn't realised that she'd been holding.

The young woman who had also just arrived turned from exchanging pleasantries with Molly to look at her in surprise, but then a flicker of recognition crossed her face. "Are you --" she hesitated, and Nell took pity on her.

"Nell Burton," she introduced herself. "I'm Harry's new mum."

"It's so nice to finally meet you -- I've heard so much about you," she gushed.

Just then, Harry and the youngest two Weasleys ran in from the garden, shouting and looking over their shoulders. The twins came pelting in right behind them, but slowed and looked innocent when they saw the adults in the kitchen. The younger three children looked smug. Mrs. Weasley frowned and looked from one group to the other. Recognising an imminent explosion, Nell tried to head it off.

"Harry, you're filthy!" she said. "What on earth have you been doing?"

He smiled at her innocently. "Quidditch? Plus I saw some garden gnomes. They're nothing like ones I saw with the Dursleys."

Nell tsked at him. "Upstairs, march. You have a date with some soap and water, young man."

He groaned. "Aw, Nell." But she glared, and he marched glumly up the stairs in front of her to the loo.

She soaped a cloth and turned to eye him. She tilted Harry's face up to the light, planning her attack.

"Geroff me!" said Harry, holding his arms in front of his face.

She swooped in with the washcloth despite his protests; what on earth did eight-year-old boys have against soap and water? She briskly scrubbed at his face, getting the worst of the dirt. She was almost afraid to tackle his neck or the backs of his ears -- she had a suspicion that she might find potatoes growing back there. Had they been out there having mud fights, for Pete's sake?

She sighed, rinsed out the cloth, and went for the squirming boy again.

Finally, when Harry was tidy enough to pass muster, she ruffled his hair and let him precede her out of the toilet. Actually, he raced out of the small room, obviously afraid of being attacked by a bar of soap once more, while she strolled after him.

Back in the kitchen, the stranger was chatting with Molly. She looked up at their arrival, and Nell saw her eyes flick down to Harry's scar momentarily.

"Hello," she said smoothly, moving forward with her hand extended to shake, "I'm Michele Zabini, with the _Daily Prophet_. You must be Harry."

Harry nodded shyly and politely shook hands, but edged slightly behind Nell.

"Would you like some tea?" asked Molly, breaking the awkward moment.

"Oh, thank you," said Nell gratefully. After her worry in London, she was gasping for a cuppa.

They were soon sitting around the kitchen table, chatting rather desultorily about Hogwarts, as Michele had only recently left school.

Nell barely noticed when the conversation turned onto her own schooldays. Leaning forward, Michele looked absolutely fascinated by Nell's stories of Muggle university. Nell felt herself responding to her interest, sparkling across the table.

She found herself pouring out the whole story of how she and Harry had met, how he had come to visit her, everything. Harry chimed in once or twice to give an opinion ("It was so much fun -- I love staying with Nell!").

Nell only remembered that Michele was a reporter when she began to pull out quill, ink, and parchment to jot down notes of the story. Harry's eyes widened at the sight of the old-fashioned quill. Michele noticed his surprise and invited him to try writing something with it. Seeing it, Nell rather wanted a go, as well.

Michele gave her a mischievous look and offered her the quill. Nell grinned. She doodled a bit, enjoying the strange feeling of the nib moving across the parchment, but she handed back the quill so Michele could finish the interview.

Really, she'd worried too much about this.

When Michele had gone, Nell grabbed her mobile again. She left Harry and Molly having a cup of tea and eyeing each other cautiously and went into the family room before dialling Audrey again.

Again Audrey didn't answer. Odd, it had been ages, and Aud was usually a homebody. She tried Emma, also to no avail. Frowning, she gave up and called her mother.

"'Lo mum," chirped Nell.

"Hello, dear," her mother said. "How are you and Harry doing?"

Nell paused for only a moment before pouring out the latest development. "The truth is, we're in a bit of a bind. The press found us, and Dumbledore didn't want us to stay in London, so he's shuffling us around to try and hide us -- well, Harry, really. But I think he's run out of ideas, because he asked me to find a friend, a Muggle friend, to stay with."

"Have you found anyone?" asked her mother.

"Not exactly," confessed Nell. "Emma said that Audrey should have space, but Aud isn't answering her 'phone. I suppose she could just be away for today -- I haven't exactly been patient," she admitted, wrinkling her forehead in thought.

"Well, if the situation gets dire, I suppose you can come stay with me," her mother offered generously.

"Oh, Mum, thanks," said Nell. "I hope it doesn't come down to that, honestly. I think we'll be fine here for a few days more, at least."

"Stay safe, love," said Mrs. Burton anxiously. "And mind Harry -- children that age can get in so much trouble so quickly, especially boys."

"I will, Mum. Swear. But I've got to go now. Talk to you soon?"

"Of course, dear. Kisses."

"Kisses," said Nell, and shut her mobile.

She returned to the kitchen, where Harry and Mrs. Weasley were sitting civilly -- but silently -- over their tea.

"It looks as though we're here another day at least," she said, as cheerfully as she could.

Harry brightened. "Can I go fly some more?" he asked.

"Ask Ron, luv, it's his broom. He might feel like doing something else," counselled Nell.

Harry nodded and traipsed from the room.

"If you'll excuse me, Molly," said Nell, "I have some schoolwork that needs doing. Do you mind?"

"Why don't you bring your books downstairs?" Mrs. Weasley suggested.

Nell nodded and went upstairs for her things. She looked wistfully at her computer, but she wasn't quite willing to set it up anywhere that Mr. Weasley could catch sight of it. She wanted to get work done, after all.

Nell and Mrs. Weasley spent a quiet hour, reading and knitting, before Nell's mobile rang.

She looked at the screen before she answered; it was Emma.

"Hello," she said.

"What's wrong?" said Emma immediately.

"Oh, I was just trying to find Audrey, that's all," said Nell. "You don't know where she is, do you?"

"She's not answering her phone? She was going to be home all afternoon, she said."

"Oh," said Nell. "Well, could you run by her place if she doesn't call back soon? I hate to worry over just a few hours, but things are so strange lately, you know?"

"Oh, absolutely," promised Emma. "She probably just went out for an early dinner -- maybe she got a date!"

Nell giggled. "Oh, I hope so! It's been how long now?"

"Be nice, darling. Save the cattiness for those of us who're good at it."

"It needed saying, luv."

Emma snorted. "Anyway, I'll check up on her tonight. Meanwhile, you take care of yourself, you hear? Stay safe!"

"Jawohl, mein commandant!" Nell nearly saluted.

"Oh, shut it, you nut." And with that, Emma rang off.

"Is your friend all right?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"What?" said Nell blankly. "Oh, Audrey? Of course. This isn't like her, though. Usually you can't tear her away from her 'phone for this many hours at a stretch when she's said she'll be there. But she'll turn up."

Mrs. Weasley nodded, her mouth tight. Nell read it as disapproval -- low, irresponsible creatures, and so forth.

But the next morning, when Emma didn't ring back and didn't ring back and kept not ringing back, Nell wasn't so sure that Mrs. Weasley's expression hadn't simply been concern -- and doubt.


	20. The Plot Thickens

**Chapter 20**

That next afternoon, Dumbledore arrived by Floo.

"Hello, Nell, Harry. Molly," he greeted them.

"Hello, Mr. Dumbledore," Nell and Harry replied, not quite in unison.

"Hello, Albus," said Molly at nearly the same time. "I'll just run upstairs for a bit?" she went on. He nodded at her.

When she'd gone, he smiled at Nell and Harry, but his eyes were tired. "Nell, Harry, I'm terribly sorry to be so abrupt, but we have found a place for you to stay. I'm afraid we must leave right away."

Nell blinked. "But -- but, what about my friends?"

"I'm afraid you won't be able to stay with anyone -- there is a bit more danger for them if you and Harry are there."

"Danger? Is something going on -- something more than the press? I thought all this was --"

"Well. Er, actually," Dumbledore rubbed at his chin. "Perhaps it would be best if --" he glanced at Harry.

Nell crossed her arms. "I think it would be best if you told us what is going on."

Dumbledore sighed. "It would be best if you and Harry moved to this new location. I regret that I cannot, at this time, tell you why."

"But what happened to my friends? Are they all right?"

"As far as I know," Dumbledore said, frowning slightly, "they are fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well, they haven't called me back --" Just then, her mobile made a liar of her, and rang. "Hello?"

"Hello, Nell."

"Emma!" she shrieked in relief. "What's wrong? Did you go over to Audrey's?"

"Yeah. Look, Nell, maybe you could -- not call for awhile? Things are kind of funny here, and it would really be best if you just kind of, I dunno, shoved off." Emma's voice was flat, and a bit rough.

Nell took her mobile away from her face and stared at it for a moment. "Er, Emma, what's going on? Did you find Audrey? What was happening? Talk to me, luv, I'm getting worried."

"Like I said, Nell. Leave it. We're all fine."

"Excuse me if I _don't believe you_," said Nell, hearing her voice squawk and not caring.

"I'm ringing off now. Don't call me back. Not until you've gotten rid of Harry."

"Gotten rid of --" Nell started to ask, but true to her word, Emma had rung off.

Nell sat, looking at nothing, for several long minutes, ignoring the others' questions.

After a bit, she had gathered enough wits to ring her mother.

The attempt didn't reassure her; her mother's machine picked up. Nell rang off without leaving a message and looked at Dumbledore, steely-eyed.

"What's going on?"

He only shook his head. "Please gather your things."

She glared for a long moment, then turned and marched up to the bedrooms to pack.

Nell wasn't sure she had ever seen a London flat with a full fireplace. At least, there certainly were none in her price range.

Nonetheless, when they stepped out into the flat, Nell could immediately see through the windows that they were somewhere in downtown London.

It was a nice place, really. Nell could tell that if she hadn't desperately wanted to be somewhere else, she would have liked it. But all she wanted was to go find Emma and Audrey, and so the flat looked like a prison.

Dumbledore was, as expected, not any help. He showed them around the two bedrooms, kitchen, and lounge, beaming, then bowed and headed toward the fireplace.

"If you should need to contact me, simply take some Floo powder from this flowerpot, throw it into the fire, and say my name. I will either Floo in or simply firetalk with you," he said offhandedly.

"Firetalk?" Nell inquired, heartily sick of the peculiar ways in which people kept coming and going around here.

"I'm told it's quite an odd sight for those who aren't used to it -- you'll see my head in the flames. It's a bit like a Muggle telephone call, I believe."

Nell nodded. Just as odd as she'd expected.

"And now, I'm afraid, I must take my leave of you. Do try to be careful, my dear," he said cheerfully, and Flooed away ("Hogsmeade!").

Nell sat down next to Harry on the sofa, and they sat in silence for a long minute.

Finally she turned to him, just as he turned to her. Their eyes met, and suddenly they were laughing. Nothing particularly funny had happened, but the stress of the situation and the rapid changes in their lives had left them both with an extreme sense of unreality. They laughed until their sides ached, until they were on the verge of tears.

When the last chuckle had died away, Nell unearthed a pack of cards from the sideboard. "Might as well pass the time," she said philosophically. "Unless you want to revise a little for school? No, I didn't think so," she said as Harry shook his head emphatically.

Cards palled, as did the colouring books. Nell was into the second chapter of _The Wind in the Willows_, found on a well-stocked bookshelf, when she heard a faint POP outside the front door, and someone started knocking roughly.

She and Harry looked at each other in alarm. Dumbledore hadn't mentioned anyone coming by.

Nell cautiously made her way to the door. She looked out the peephole, but before she even had a chance to see who was there, the person had reached for the doorknob and begun to push open the door.

The hinges creaked, Nell noted semi-hysterically, as she backed away from the approaching intruder.

"Harry, go to your room," she hissed over her shoulder.

He shook his head stubbornly, eyes fixed on the slow movement of the door.


	21. A New and Unpleasant Development

**Chapter 21**

The door slowly opened and a man stepped through the doorway. He had slightly greying brown hair and a stoop to his shoulders. Nell couldn't tell how old he was just by looking at him. He could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty, as far as she could tell. Looking at his eyes, though, she would have said older, rather than younger.

He caught sight of Harry first; Nell was still mostly behind the door.

He gasped, a low sound that was nearly a sob. "Harry?" he asked quietly.

Harry just nodded, his eyes wide in astonishment.

"Who are you?" Nell demanded. "What are you doing here? See here--"

He turned slightly and raised his hand to stem the flow of questions. "My name is Remus Lupin. I didn't mean to alarm you, Miss Burton. I had heard that Dumbledore might put you up at one of the Order's safehouses. I've been checking around all of them this afternoon. I wanted a look at Harry; I've heard that he looks like his father. You do, actually, quite a bit," he added to Harry.

"Why would you want to do that?" asked Nell, her voice still tight with suspicion and mistrust. After all, he had just waltzed in, and she still had nothing but his word that he meant no harm to Harry. She started casually edging toward the desk.

"He and I were friends at school together, that's all. I thought I might stop by." He shrugged, as if this was the most reasonable thing in the world.

This explanation stretched the bounds of Nell's credulity. She had finally reached the desk, and as quickly as possible, she reached over and snatched up the sharp letter opener. She grabbed Harry's shoulder and pulled him behind her as she pointed her makeshift weapon at the strange man.

He blinked and took a half step back. "Professor Dumbledore did tell me I might come by," he said, as if he were explaining something to a small child.

"He certainly didn't tell us," said Nell shrilly, keeping the point of the letter opener directed toward him. "And besides, I'm sure he would have told you exactly which flat he'd put us up at. Didn't you say that you'd been trying them all afternoon?"

He grimaced. "I'd hoped you'd forgotten that, actually. It's true that Professor Dumbledore gave me permission to visit, but I may have anticipated a bit too much."

"So why exactly are you here, then? And don't try to feed me any bullsh--" she remembered Harry standing behind her -- "any bull about knowing Harry's father."

He smiled easily and walked back to the door to close it. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable if you put that thing away?"

"No, I would not be more _comfortable_ if I put it away. I would be more _comfortable_ if you told us why you're here, and then flooed Dumbledore to confirm it. That's what would make me more _comfortable_," she bit out, her outstretched arm shaking slighly.

"Why don't I go ahead and floo Professor Dumbledore, then?" he asked. "Where's your Powder?"

Nell indicated the flowerpot with the tip of the letter opener, then watched him warily as he walked over to the fireplace. It hadn't escaped her attention that he had avoided the question of why he was there.

He tossed a handful of the Floo Powder onto the fire and called out "Professor Dumbledore!"

A few moments later, Nell saw Dumbledore's head appear in the flames, just as he had said. And just as he had said, it was disconcerting and alarming. She looked over at Harry and saw his eyes wide in astonishment.

"Hello, Remus," said Dumbledore calmly. "Paying a call?"

"Er, yes, Professor," said the man. "But I forgot to ring ahead. Would you do the honours?"

Dumbledore twinkled. "Certainly, Remus. Is Nell nearby?" He craned his neck the best he could from the fireplace.

Nell stepped forward, into his line of sight. "Yes. I'm right here. Who is this, and why is he here?"

"This is Remus Lupin, Miss Burton. I had hoped that he could help you with your friends. You were concerned about their well-being, and Remus is something of a freelance sleuth."

"At times," the aforementioned sleuth nodded. "Although usually it is not my clients whom I intend to frighten, you know."

"He's quite trustworthy, Miss Burton," said Dumbledore. "So you can lay down your arms."

She blushed and put the hand holding the letter opener behind her back. Remus grinned at her. Reluctantly, she smiled back.

"Did you really know my dad?" asked Harry.

Remus smiled at him as well. "I did indeed."

Dumbledore chuckled. "They were inseparable, Harry. Why, the stories I could tell..."

"Well!" said Remus quickly. "Why don't we work on this puzzle, Miss Burton? Don't want to keep you, Professor, I know you have a lot of work to do."

Dumbledore smiled, but agreed with him, and in a moment the fire was head-free once more.

Suddenly all business, Remus pulled out a small notebook and sat down on the settee. "Please tell me why you're concerned about your friends."

Nell sat down next to him and began to tell him the whole story, and Harry perched on a nearby chair, listening attentively. "So when I first got Harry, I took him to meet Emma and Audrey and a bunch of my friends from uni. They loved him, of course," she said fondly, looking over at him. He blushed. "Anyway, so yesterday, right before I gave my _Daily Prophet_ interview, I went to London and had lunch with Emma. She was perfectly normal, and she told me to ring Audrey if I needed a place to stay." She broke off and paused, then jumped up and began to pace. "I want a cup of tea. Do you want tea? Remus, Harry?"

"Sure," said Harry eagerly. Remus only nodded, his head still bent over his notebook, although Nell had yet to actually give him any useful information. She busied her nervous hands, and all too soon their tea was ready.

Once she had a mug to grip, she was able to continue telling her story. "So I rang Audrey that afternoon. She didn't answer. I didn't think anything of it, but I couldn't reach her hours later, and that's not like her, if she's said she'll be home. So I rang Emma and asked her to go check on Audrey, see if everything was okay." She stopped and sipped her tea. "Oh, and I couldn't reach my mum, either, but that's not really a cause for alarm quite yet -- she tends to jaunter off if the mood strikes her. The timing is suspicious, though," she added as an afterthought. She paused again, trying to recollect the thread of her story.

"Then Emma rang back this morning," she continued, "telling me to leave her and Audrey alone. And she said something curious. She said not to contact her 'until you've gotten rid of Harry'. But she liked Harry! So I'm not sure what's going on."

She'd run out of momentum, and just sat sipping her tea while Remus frowned at his notebook and jotted down notes. She had a silent but pitched battle with Harry for the last biscuit, only conceding when they both had a fistful of crumbs.

"How did your friend's voice sound when she called you this morning?" Remus asked suddenly.

"Oh!" remembered Nell. "It was different. She sounded like she had a cold or a sore throat, and it was a bit like she was reading a script or underwater or something. Her voice was all flat."

Remus's eyebrows arched and he made a few more notations. "Have you tried to call your mother again?"

Nell shrugged. "I'll try now." She flipped open the mobile. She spared a momentary pang for her phone bill as she dialled.

"Hello?" came her mother's voice.

Mrs. Burton's voice was rough, and a bit flat, as if she was reading the word instead of saying it.


	22. Of Mothers and Memory Charms

**Chapter 22**

"Mum?" said Nell, eyes wide with shock. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

Next to her, Lupin stiffened.

"I'm fine," said her mother blandly. "Who is this?"

"It's Nell, mum," she said shakily, "Your daughter? Is -- what's happening?"

"Oh, I'm all right, my dear. When did I get a daughter?"

Nell swallowed hard, mingled relief and concern mixing oddly in the pit of her stomach. "Er, I'm twenty-one, Mum. What's going on?"

Her mother made pleasant but noncommital noises, and Nell was sure that her frustration was broadcast on her face.

Lupin silently held his hand out for the phone, and Nell handed it over. "Hello, Mrs. Burton," he said pleasantly. He listened for a moment, then, "Remus Lupin. Yes, I'm a friend of your daughter. Yes. Yes. No, you've never met me, ma'am. No. No."

He rolled his eyes at Nell. She was a bit amused by listening to his side of the conversation, although she was still mostly concerned.

"Have you seen any men or women in robes lately? Yes, funny dresses. Right. Yes, with sticks, exactly! Did you hear what they said when they pointed them at you? Ah. No, don't worry if you can't remember. What exactly happened right when they said it? Dizzy? Is that when you started to feel confused? I see. Well, I'll be there to see you in a few minutes. Okay. Okay, I'll tell her. Thank you. Thank you. 'Bye."

Lupin handed the phone back to Nell. "Can you describe to me where your mother lives, please?" he asked.

"Well," she said, startled, "she's in Kent, about two miles northwest of Glendale Common. Her house is called Whitcombe Grange, if that matters."

He closed his eyes. "I think that should be sufficient. I'm familiar with Glendale Common, thank goodness. I'll be back as soon as I can." With that, he vanished with a loud POP.

Nell sat back, startled. "Well!" she said. "I was going to ask what on earth was happening, but it looks like we're going to have to guess."

"Maybe she was abducted by aliens?" Harry said tentatively. When Nell stared at him, confused at the non sequitur, he blushed and said, "Well, that's my guess."

Understanding dawned and Nell laughed, a little edgily. "Maybe she's been possessed!"

"She's been obliviated," said Lupin, who popped back into existence a moment later. He held Nell's unconscious mother in his arms.

"Obliviated?" echoed Nell. "What's that? Is she okay? Why is she unconscious?" Her voice steadily rose with alarm, and she was nearly shrieking by the time she asked the last question. Harry had leapt to his feet in alarm, staring at the woman in Lupin's arms with wide eyes.

Lupin placed Nell's mum carefully on the settee, took a step back, and pulled his wand. Nell drew in her breath, ready to repeat her questions, at the top of her voice if necessary, but Lupin held up his hand to forestall her.

"_Enervate_," he said firmly. Nell's mother jerked awake, and she looked around with apparent alarm and confusion.

"What's going on?" Mrs. Burton quavered. "Who are you, and why am I here? Please, tell me," she pleaded.

Nell dove for the settee and threw her arms around the other woman. "Oh, mum!" she wailed. "Are you okay?"

Mrs. Burton, looking no less confused, gently patted the distraught girl's back. "There, there, dear. Remind me of your name again?"

Nell choked back a sob. "Nell, mummy." She pulled away. "You really don't remember who I am?" she asked, sounding years younger.

Mrs. Burton patted her shoulder helplessly. Lupin broke in. "She wouldn't remember you. She's been Memory Charmed."

"She what?" asked Nell, bewildered.

"Memory Charmed. Whoever was there made her forget everything that happened. Depending on what the caster intended her to forget, she may or may not get back her full memory." Lupin looked very sober. "There are a few spells to help enhance the subject's memory, but the Memory Charms are meant to be permanent."

Nell was less successful at choking back her sob this time. Harry came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder, as if to comfort her. Nell turned and grabbed him, squeezing him tight and burying her face in his hair.

"_Claritas_," said Lupin. Nell jerked upright, looking at her mother. Mrs. Burton did look less confused, that was sure, but she still looked at Nell like she was a stranger. "Mrs. Burton," Lupin said gently, "Can you tell us who came to your house and did this to you?"

"Oh, my!" said Mrs. Burton, her eyes distant, "What rude men! There were two of them, I believe, and they didn't even wear proper clothes, only these very odd dresses." She trailed off for a moment. "But I can't remember what they wanted. It's a bit like a dream, really. The harder I try to remember it, the more it won't be remembered." She put her hand up to her forehead. "Oh, it makes my head ache so dreadfully!"

Lupin nodded, his eyes veiled. "I understand. But if you do remember anything else, please tell me right away." He looked at Nell. "Who were the friends you mentioned? Perhaps one of them had more luck with her memories."

"Audrey and Emma," said Nell promptly.

"Addresses?" asked Lupin.

"Aud's in Bayswater. 51 Gloucester Terrace. Emma owns a flat in Central London, in Duke Street. She's Dalancey Courts No. 6." Nell smiled vaguely. "She inherited it from her grandmother." She shivered. "Ooh, that old witch would roll over in her grave if she knew someone had broken in and interfered with Emma."

"Witch?" said Lupin interestedly.

"Oh, metaphorically speaking," said Nell, waving her hand.

"Ah. Well, Audrey will be easier to retrieve. She'll take a bit longer, though. It's much easier to find a place to apparate in the country than in the middle of the city. 51 Gloucester Terrace?" Nell nodded confirmation. "Excuse me, then," and Lupin vanished once more.

Mrs. Burton jumped at the sudden noise. "What -- Where did that nice young man get off to?"

"He went to get a friend of mine, Mum," said Nell gently. "He'll be back soon. Would you like to play cards while we wait for him?"

Mrs. Burton brightened. "Certainly! Why, I used to make a killing at bridge, you know."

"Yes, mum, I know," said Nell patiently.

"Oh, yes, you would, wouldn't you?" said Mrs. Burton. "And you, young man?" she asked of Harry. "Do you play?"

He shook his head. "Only gin rummy," he confided.

"Besides, we haven't four for bridge," said Nell sensibly. "Gin rummy it is." She dealt, and they waited.

They had been waiting for nearly half an hour. Harry was wiping the floor with the two women, winning hand after hand. It was with double relief that Nell heard the telltale POP of apparation that signaled Lupin's return.

Once again he had a woman lying unconscious in his arms, and once again he laid her on the settee to revive her.

Nell was struck with _deja-vu. _Audrey's story was startlingly similar to Mrs. Burton's, as well as her confusion.

Lupin set his jaw. "Central London. Duke street?" he said brusquely to Nell.

She nodded. "Dalancey Courts number six."

He nodded back and disappeared.

"Well!" said Mrs. Burton cheerfully. "Now we have a fourth for bridge!"

Nell settled down to wait once more.


	23. Finally Some Information!

**Chapter 23**

They waited. And waited. And waited.

While they waited, Mrs. Burton patiently tried to teach Harry the rules of bridge. He was quite polite about it, but Nell could see that he was bored silly with the game. She tried to keep conversation going, but the cheerfulness in her voice was too obviously false for her to continue for long.

Harry was an unexpected godsend. Not only was he polite about playing bridge, but as soon as Nell's efforts at conversation trailed off, he made small talk like a pro. He chattered about school, the zoo, the Weasleys -- anything that seemed to pop into his head. Nell could see her mum and Audrey being charmed by him -- as if they were meeting him for the first time, she thought, and had to close her eyes to keep back tears.

Nearly two hours of interminable bridge-playing and chit-chat later, Lupin appeared with Emma, laying her on the settee.

"Why are they always unconscious when you find them?" asked Nell in frustration.

Lupin looked up in surprise, about to wake Emma. "You can't apparate with conscious Muggles," he explained. "It takes quite a lot of effort even to take a wizard or witch with you, let alone someone who couldn't even understand the theory behind Apparation."

Nell nodded, but didn't look away from Emma. She really, really despised seeing her friends and loved ones being brought into her apartment unconscious. She dreaded hearing that this time, one of them couldn't be woken.

But Lupin pointed his magic wand and said the magic word, and it seemed to work, one more time.

Emma drowsily opened her eyes and surveyed the five people watching her: Mrs. Burton and Audrey curiously, Nell, Lupin, and Harry tensely. As soon as Emma saw Harry, she scowled horribly. "What's he still doing here? He should be--" she paused and shook her head. "--should be -- should be -- somewhere else." She trailed off in apparent confusion, pressing her hand to her forehead in a gesture that had become all-too-familiar to her watchers.

"I think it's the equivalent of a post-hypnotic suggestion," said Lupin quietly to Nell, watching Emma grimace. "They convinced her that Harry should be somewhere, and now she can't remember where they wanted him to go." He snorted. "That's the problem with Memory Charms, really. I'm surprised they used it here. In fact," he said, turning back to Emma, "_Claritas_!"

Emma swayed dizzily on the settee, taking a long moment to recover. She looked up and blinked for a moment, then her eyes focused on Nell.

"Nell!" she said, leaping up and catching Nell up in an enormous hug. "You will not believe what just happened to me and -- Audrey! What are you doing here?"

Audrey smiled politely. "Hello," she said. "Do I know you?"

Emma looked taken aback. "Er, yeah? We go to university together? We roomed together for two years? Best of mates?"

"Oh," said Audrey, turning back to the cards. "Whose turn was it?"

Emma looked crushed. "I'll explain in a minute," whispered Nell. In a louder voice, she added, "First, tell us what happened!"

"Well," Emma started, "I went over to Audrey's place last night like you asked. When I got there, a man answered the door, no one I knew. And he had on the strangest clothes -- a bit like a bathrobe. He didn't seem very happy to see me," here Emma looked a bit sheepish, "especially since I rather bullied my way in. Audrey was sitting with another man on the couch, and she looked awful! She was staring straight ahead, and, Nell, I almost expected her to start drooling, she looked so vacant."

Lupin interrupted at this pause. "It's interesting that you remember this so well. The other two apparent victims have no real memory of their -- encounters. Can we go back a moment and have you describe the two men?"

Emma took a deep breath. "Well, as to why I remember, I can't say." She looked mischevious for a moment. "I always was more strong-minded than Audrey, though." She and Nell grinned, but Lupin coughed.

"It's more likely simply a matter of the relative strengths of the Charms, actually --" but he trailed off at Emma's fulminous glare. "Or strength of mind, of course," he finished.

"Anyway, the men were most odd-looking," continued Emma. "The one who opened the door was tall and rather average-looking. Skinny, with dark hair, and of course those odd robes. The one inside was much odder. He reminded me of a pigeon -- he had white hair and bobbed his head a bit as he spoke. He was wearing --" Emma paused to laugh, "--pinstripes! He looked like a banker in his dressing gown, frankly. Ridiculous!"

Lupin frowned, but didn't speak. He made a note in his book, and Nell noticed that he put several exclamation marks after whatever he wrote. The pinstripes must have made an impression, she gathered.

"So they asked me in, and before I could talk to Audrey, they had given me a cup of tea. It was stupid, of course, but all of a sudden I just felt so thirsty, I couldn't help but take a sip. As soon as I did, I --" Emma looked confused. "It must have been drugs of some kind. I felt relaxed, but I kept telling them things about you and Harry -- where you lived, where you went to school, everything, even about Harry and Lord Thingy."

Harry sat up and paid closer attention, looking away from the bridge game, when he heard his name. Nell noticed, but didn't think it was quite fair to make him leave the room right when things were getting interesting.

"What _was_ that?" Emma asked plaintively.

Lupin nodded slightly. "That sounds like Veritaserum. It's a truth potion," he explained at their blank looks.

"Ah," said Emma, and she shuddered slightly. "I -- I didn't like that."

There was silence for a long moment until Emma cleared her throat, breaking the tension. "Well, I answered their questions, and it seemed like Audrey had had a dose of the truth serum also -- when they forgot to address me specifically, she answered too. It wore off in about half an hour, but I felt awful, even though I didn't feel compelled to answer any more questions. Dozy and dull, like I'd stayed awake for a week straight. But they wouldn't let me sleep," she complained, clearly still indignant.

Lupin sat up sharply. "What did they do instead?"

Emma made a face. "They talked at me. Told me how dangerous Harry was to Muggles, how everyone would be better off if Nell relinquished guardianship, and so on. It felt like hours," she said.

Nell reached over to put her arm around Harry's shoulders. He was sitting stiffly, but though he didn't lean into the hug, he also didn't pull away.

"And then?" Lupin asked.

"Well, the next thing I remember was that I was in my apartment and Nell was talking to me. All that I wanted was for Nell to give up Harry -- don't worry," she said reassuringly to Harry, whose face had fallen slightly, "I got over it. You're a good kid." He gave her a small smile.

"Do you remember anything odd the men might have said? Any spells?" Lupin asked tensely.

"Er -- there were a couple of Latin things. But mostly they mumbled. I only caught the last one, really, and that was because the two of them seemed to disagree. The one in the plain robes, the skinny man with the dark hair, stopped the other, the one with the pinstripes, who had raised his wand. He said something like, 'don't erase her memory, she might be useful. Confound her instead.'"

"Confund?" asked Lupin.

"Right, confund," Emma confirmed. "So they said -- that -- and all of a sudden I was absolutely convinced that Nell had no business raising Harry, or even being around him. But I didn't quite remember what they'd thought she should _do_ with him! Honestly, I still can't quite remember," she confessed.

"That's the problem with a Confunding Charm," said Lupin, a smile playing about his lips. "You don't get to pick and choose the lucid bits."

"What happened to Audrey and Mrs. Burton?" Emma asked him. "Why can't you do the same thing to them you did to me?"

He looked grim. "They didn't have a Confunding Charm. They had the full Memory Charm put on them. With luck and time, they'll remember bits and pieces. I can only lessen the effects, really; the original caster would have to be the one to take the Charms off completely."

Nell looked up with hope. "The caster can take it off? So all we have to do is find the man who did it and make him --" she gestured vaguely, "--un-do it?"

Lupin was shaking his head. "It's not that simple," he said. "I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore." He knelt at the fireplace, tossed some Floo Powder on the flames, and thrust his head into fire.

Emma gasped with alarm, but when Nell and Harry registered no shock at the sight, she subsided.

Nell expected to be able to hear the conversation, or at least Lupin's end of it, but the room was silent except for Audrey and Mrs. Burton's quiet conversation over the card game.

Lupin finally pulled his head back and stood up. "He'll be here in the morning. As long as I stay nearby, he feels that there is no immediate danger." He looked rueful. "After all, the damage has been done."

He sat down at the card table and smiled genially. "Shall we play?"

Harry finally reached the end of his patience with the game. He heaved as deep a sigh as only an exasperated eight-year-old can manage, and dug in his knapsack. When he emerged, he had a small black book in his hands.

Harry went quietly to the couch with his prize, but when Lupin caught sight of the book, he froze.


	24. Pranks and Pinstripes

**Chapter 24**

"Harry, where did you get that?" asked Lupin carefully.

Harry looked up. "Professor Dumbledore gave it to me," he said. "Here, do you want to see? It's _wicked_."

"Sure," said Lupin, holding out his hand. He looked at the faded cover for a long moment before opening the book. Nell saw him glance through the previous conversation and smile faintly. "This is a most interesting book, Harry. What are you going to do with it?"

"Do?" said Harry, his face blank. "Does it do anything else?"

"Oh, of course not," said Lupin. He was a bit too elaborately careful, however, and Harry stared at him suspiciously.

"Why did you ask, then?" he retorted.

Lupin smiled. "I simply wanted to make sure it hadn't misled you. In fact, did the Weasleys know you had this kind of artifact?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "And they were funny about it too. What's so great about knowing where something's brain is?"

Raising an eyebrow, Lupin said, "Don't you want to know where it draws its power from?" Harry looked puzzled. "Let me put it another way. How do you think it works?"

Harry still looked puzzled. "Magic?"

Nell stifled a snort.

Lupin frowned slightly. "Well, yes. But what starts the spell? It can't start just from you talking to it. How does it _know_, Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth as if to answer, but closed it, a moment later. "Ah," said Lupin. "You see? First you have to find its brain. In this case, however," he added, looking at the book, "I happen to know that little harm can come from this volume, if one knows the password."

"Password?" Harry's ears perked up. "You know there's a password? Do you know what it is?"

Lupin looked mildly chagrined. "Oh, no, I -- the conversation inside," he said suddenly. "The writers asked you for the password, of course."

"You do know what it is!" accused Harry. "You said you were a friend of my father's, and my father is Mr. Prongs! So you have to know!"

Nell was quite impressed with Harry's logical leap -- apparently, so was Lupin.

"That's true," he said quietly. "Your father and I were quite good friends."

"Who are you?" asked Harry. It was Lupin's turn to look confused. "Mr. Moony, Mr. Padfoot, or Mr. Wormtail?"

Lupin's wince was visible. He sat down on the couch heavily beside Harry. "I'm Mr. Moony, Harry. It's a nickname from school. But --" he held up a hand, "--please, don't ask about the other two. That is a conversation I would like very much not to have."

Harry nodded. "But the passwords!"

"Ah, the important part!" said Lupin. "Of course, Harry. I will have to do it for you -- you need a wand to activate it. Tap it three times," drawing out his wand and doing so, "and say, 'The best pranks are best remembered'." Immediately, as Lupin held the book open, they could see words filling up the pages, the letters crawling up from the spine like tiny spiders.

Harry gaped. "It's a real book?" he exclaimed. "Do you and my father still talk to us as we read?"

"I'm afraid not. It's -- it _was _-- intended as more of a security measure than anything else." Lupin suddenly looked disconcertingly like a guilty schoolboy. "And it was a great deal of fun to do," he added.

"What does it talk about?" asked Harry, starting to leaf through the pages.

"This is the entire collected wisdom of the most notorious pranksters Hogwarts has ever seen!" Lupin said grandly, and Harry gasped in wonder.

Nell couldn't resist. She tried, but -- "Awfully thin book, isn't it?" she interjected.

Harry looked mortally offended, but Lupin grinned. "Ah, you might think so, my dear," he declaimed, "but you have yet to witness the true wonder contained herein!"

"Oh, listen to this, Nell," said Harry, who had stopped to read a particularly interesting section. He read, "'When charming the House point counters, take care not to get greedy. Let the points slowly slip away, and the Slytherins might never notice.' What are House point counters?" he asked Lupin.

"Merits and demerits are measured using semi-precious stones in giant hourglasses. Your father helped set up a spell to take a few points every day from our rival house, Slytherin." He looked sheepish. "Not one of our cleverer ideas, but original for all that. It was about four months before anyone noticed."

Harry looked impressed and went back to paging through the book.

Nell caught Lupin's eye and raised her eyebrow. He gave her a slight, mischievous half-smile. Of course he would; he wasn't the one who would have to deal with Harry at Hogwarts. But then, she thought, it was a boarding school; she wouldn't be the one to keep him in line either. She smiled back, and let Harry keep reading the prank guide.

But she took Lupin aside. "I want to talk to you," she hissed, and pulled him into the hallway.

He looked at her enquiringly. "Yes?"

"Who did this? Who's behind it? Do we need to worry about that evil Lord Thingy?" Nell fired off the questions rapidly, barely managing to keep her voice down.

Lupin held his hand up to stem the flow. "Dumbledore said that he would discuss it with you tomorrow morning --"

But it was Nell's turn to cut him off. "You'll tell me now," she said. Her eyes were narrow with determination and her fists were clenched; she felt downright dangerous.

Lupin must have sensed her desperation; he cast her a considering look. After a long, tense moment, he sighed and shrugged, conceding. "Well, obviously I don't have details," he began cautiously, "but I do know that the only wizard who is known to regularly wear pinstripes is -- is --"

"Yes?" said Nell encouragingly, as Lupin seemed to falter and lose a bit of resolve.

"The Minister of Magic," he said heavily.


	25. A Plan Emerges

**Chapter 25**

Nell was stunned speechless. The _Minister_? Was he -- "Is he evil, too, then?" she asked.

Lupin blinked. "Not as far as I know. But he's not particularly bright -- most people think Professor Dumbledore should stop being stubborn and take the position."

"Right," Nell said. "So if he's not evil, why is he going around ruining my friends' and my mother's lives?"

She asked it in such a polite and distant tone that it seemed to take Lupin a moment to understand her.

He turned, suddenly, and with his back to her said, "I'm truly sorry, Miss Burton. Professor Dumbledore will have to explain what Minister Fudge is thinking." He walked back toward the lounge. "I believe I will tell Harry good night -- I shall see you in the morning."

"Wait," she said. "I've upset you. What did I say?"

"Never mind," said Lupin, his back ramrod-straight. "But please remember that your friends and family are still alive, and there is much that can be done for them. Don't count their lives ruined quite yet."

"Ah," said Nell, suddenly understanding. "I'm whinging. Well, tomorrow morning, then. When should we expect you and Dumbledore to be here?"

"Is half past eight too early?"

"Not at all. The earlier the better." She paused. "Will you be nearby, if there's trouble?"

"I will be within shouting distance," he said. "If it's a loud shout."

"I'll do my best to scream if we need you," Nell responded dryly. "What is our Floo direction, just in case?"

He turned and looked at her sharply. "You needn't go anywhere, you know. There's no reason to leave, and it isn't safe."

"But I want to know," she said. "If we have to Floo somewhere in a big hurry, I'd like to be able to find my way back here. Please?"

He looked at her suspiciously, but assented after a moment. "Sixteen Eaton Circle. But for Merlin's sake, don't go anywhere!"

"I swear," said Nell. Lupin nodded and vanished into the other room. She could hear him saying good night, but her mind was already racing. When the door had closed after him and the lounge had been peaceful for a few minutes, she went back in.

She went straight to the fireplace and tossed a pinch of powder onto the flames. "Michele Zabini, at the _Daily Prophet_ Office," she said, and bravely stretched her head toward the fire.

She was expecting to scorch off her eyebrows, at the very least, and she was pleasantly surprised to feel that the flames were only a pleasant tickle around her neck. She stared out into the room that had appeared before her eyes; it was everything she'd expected of a magical newspaper office.

Notes were rocketing back and forth between desks, flying overhead like the best paper airplanes ever built; there were a dozen fireplaces that she could see, all with heads talking earnestly to steno pads writing by themselves; best of all, Michele was right next to her fireplace. Perfect.

"Michele," Nell hissed.

The young woman looked up absently. She caught sight of Nell and rushed to the fireplace. "What are you doing here? Trying to taunt the reporters? I thought you were supposed to be going into deep hiding?"

"I was -- am," Nell stammered. "Look, I need your help. Floo to sixteen Eaton Circle, and I'll tell you what's been going on. Exclusive!"

Michele hesitated and looked uneasily at the office, but apparently the siren call of an exclusive story was too much for her to resist, and she nodded. "Get back."

Nell pulled her head out of the fireplace and backed up a few paces. Harry was watching curiously, and she grinned at him. "Remember the reporter? She's going to come by." Harry barely had time to smile back before Michele fell out of the grate.

Looking around, the young woman whistled between her teeth. "Something's been going on, hasn't it? Does Professor Dumbledore have you stashed away in an official safehouse?"

Nell shrugged. "I don't know, honestly. But these are my friends and my mother, if that's what you were wondering. Audrey and Mum got Memory Charms, but Emma only got a Confundus. And it's all the minister's fault, Lupin says, because of the pinstripes. Dumbledore's coming tomorrow to sort it out, but I want your help."

"Wait," said Michele, holding up her hand and helplessly laughing. "Start from the beginning. Pretend I have no idea what's going on."

Nell looked at her, then laughed. "Of course. It seems like such a long time, but really this has all happened in just a few days." She took a deep breath before she launched into the explanation. She noticed Harry looking up from his book and edging closer to Michele.

"Well," she began, "I was going to move in with Audrey for a few days. So I tried to call her, but she didn't answer. I asked Emma to stop by, and then Emma didn't answer her mobile. I told Dumbledore, and he asked a man named Remus Lupin to investigate for me, while he moved me and Harry here. While I was telling him about my friends, I called my mum to check on her, and she'd forgotten who I was."

"Is that where the Memory Charm comes in?" asked Michele, who had been following closely and taking notes. By then, Harry was sitting at her elbow, watching the quill and paying close attention to the discussion.

"Exactly," said Nell. "Lupin went and got all three of them, and it turns out Audrey and Mum both had that one done. But Emma was lucky -- the two men who visited her apartment only cast a Confundus curse on her, so once Lupin did a spell on her, she could remember most of what happened. And what happened was that a man in pinstriped robes had been in charge of looking for Harry, apparently."

Michele gasped.

Nell raised her eyebrows. "So the pinstripes mean something to you, too? This Fudge must have striking taste."

"Oh, he does," said Michele fervently. "It's -- unforgettable. Honestly. But are you saying that the Minister of Magic is going around to Muggle homes and putting Memory Charms on Muggles at random?"

"Not at random -- Emma said that he was looking for Harry, and he didn't think a Muggle should have custody of him." Nell sent a reassuring glance to Harry, who left his seat on the sofa to squeeze in next to Nell on her chair.

"He's wrong, of course," said Michele, and both Harry and Nell sent her approving glances. "I mean, seeing as it's you. I don't know that I would want just any Muggle entrusted with Harry Potter, but if that aunt and uncle were so bad…" Her voice trailed off.

"But what do you want me to do?" she asked after a short silence.

"I want you to tell the minister where we are," Nell said flatly. Michele looked at her in shock, and Nell hastened to explain. "Dumbledore and Lupin will be here at half eight; I want the minister to think he has until ten or so. Go to him early in the morning and say you have breaking news that you thought he'd be interested in."

Michele's face reflected her dawning understanding. "So he comes here, expecting a helpless Muggle and a child -- sorry, Harry -- and instead finds Professor Dumbledore and Remus Lupin." She laughed. "Can I come, too?"

Nell grinned. "Sure."

Michele stood up. "I'll tell him tomorrow morning." She looked down at her notebook. "I wonder how much of this they'll let me print?"


	26. The Quiet Before the Storm

**Chapter 26**

Once Michele had Floo'd away, Nell's rush of energy faded. She waved her mum, Audrey, and Emma away from their card game and off to the flat's bedrooms, then sat down heavily on the couch beside Harry. He leaned against her shoulder.

"What will happen tomorrow?" asked Harry quietly.

"I don't know, Harry," Nell admitted. "There's going to be a lot of fuss, I know that much."

"And you're going to be right in the middle of it," Harry noted perceptively. "You're starting all this."

"I'm finishing all this," she corrected. "Magic is one thing; outright cruelty is quite another."

"I'm sorry about your mum," Harry said, quietly and all in a rush. Nell hugged him tightly against her side and didn't reply.

"Look," she said after a minute, "We have to talk about some things." Harry nodded tentatively, and she continued. "This minister probably won't be thrilled about me keeping you. So we'll need a plan. We can always run away, but we should probably leave that for a last-ditch attempt." Harry stiffened against her.

"What do you think will happen?"

"It's hard to say. Hopefully, he'll agree to Lupin or Michele or Dumbledore taking you, or even the Dursleys, because I could get you back from any of them as easy as anything. But if he tries to take you anywhere--" Harry exclaimed softly in alarm and she rubbed his arm briskly. "If he does that, you have to show him how difficult you can be." She grinned conspiratorally, and he smiled back uncertainly after a moment.

"You mean, be bad? On purpose?" Harry's voice was intrigued, and Nell caught his smile widening.

"Only as a last resort," Nell warned, smiling wider herself. "Just, keep all your unpredictable magic things in your mind -- remember all you can do if you get mad enough."

They shared a naughty grin and Harry sat back, curling up on the couch. "Okay," he said sleepily. "I c'n do that."

"Good," said Nell, watching him drift off to sleep against her. She didn't realise that he had her arm caught until she tried to get up, but she happily sat back down to watch Harry sleep for a little longer. Just a little -- little longer --

A sudden POP woke her up, making her jar Harry and nearly tumble the two of them off the couch. She blinked blurrily up at Lupin, who was smiling indulgently at her. "What?" she asked.

"It's half eight," he informed her. "'The earlier the better'?"

"Oh," Nell said, embarrassed. "I didn't say I'd be _awake_ for 'earlier'. He snorted.

"What?" said Harry, lifting his head. He tried to smooth his rumpled hair, but only succeeded in further mussing it. Nell thought about helping, but decided against fighting a losing battle.

"Nothing you can do about it, I'm afraid," said Lupin. "Your father had the same problem."

"Really?" asked Harry, forgetting his hair. "Did he look like me?"

"Completely," Lupin replied. "Except he used to rumple his hair on purpose, so people would think he'd just gotten off his broom. And when I say people, I mean your mother, of course."

Harry looked up at him, wide-eyed. "My dad flew, too? Did he play Quidditch?"

"Champion Chaser -- but I'm afraid we have to get down to business. I'll tell you more later. For now -- Nell? Anything new happen overnight?"

Nell hesitated. Should she mention her new plan, or let it be a surprise?

"Nell?" said Lupin sternly.

She sighed. "I talked to my friend Michele. Er, I got that impression that Minister Fudge will probably show up around ten or so."

"Alone?" pressed Lupin.

"Well, he'll be under the impression that Harry and I will be alone, so he'll probably just come with one other person. Is Dumbledore coming?"

"Yes. How did Fudge get this impression?"

"It's what Nell told her to say," Harry suddenly contributed. "When Nell Floo'd her at the _Daily Prophet_ office."

Nell cringed. "Er, yeah, that's probably how."

Lupin laughed out loud. "You really are remarkably direct," he said, still chuckling. "Getting the Minister and the press in the same room is more brilliant than you know. Although," he frowned, "it would have been best to run your plan by Professor Dumbledore."

Nell shrugged. "Probably. Didn't stop me."

"No, it wouldn't have, would it?" Lupin snorted. "Anyhow, Professor Dumbledore should be here shortly. Any chance of a cup of tea? And perhaps we should wake our guests?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Nell. "Of course!" And she bustled off to the kitchen to start the kettle. Her second stop was the bedrooms, where she found the residents already stirring. Audrey and her mother were confused again and needed reminding, but they were soon coaxed out for a cup of tea and some breakfast.

They were finishing off the toast when another POP announced Dumbledore's appearance in the sitting room. He walked into the kitchen and smiled a greeting around. He poured himself a cup of tea before sitting down.

"How are we all doing this fine morning?" he asked genially.

"Well, Nell's made her own plans for today, Professor," Lupin said.

"Oh, you're both a big part of them," Nell hastened to clarify. Dumbledore turned a curious gaze on her, and she elaborated. "The Minister should be here, pinstripes and all, in about," she checked her watch, "forty-five minutes, and I'm hoping that with you and Lupin here, he'll be willing to back down and restore some memories." She looked hopefully at Dumbledore. "What do you think?"

He looked at her gravely. "Perhaps this plan could use some refinement, though the logic is sound. What if Minister Fudge declines to back down?"

Nell smiled. "That's where you come in. I understand he listens to your counsel?"

Dumbledore inclined his head slightly. "He has been known to do so, yes," he admitted, "Though I cannot rely on that fact."

Nell shrugged. "Well, we'll see," she said philosophically. "And not much more waiting, anyway."

"Ah, I see," said Dumbledore, twinkling a little at her, "Nothing so intolerable as waiting, is there?"

"No," agreed Nell and Harry in unison. They looked at each other and broke into giggles, which proved contagious. Once the bout of laughter died down, more desultory conversation ensued, and they moved to the lounge to await the Minister.

At about quarter to ten, Michele tumbled out of the Floo. Dumbledore looked at her in surprise. "Miss Zabini?"

She smiled at him. "Lovely to see you again, Headmaster," she greeted him. "What do you think of our plan?"

"We shall see," he said imperturbably. "I had not known that you were involved. Is it in an official capacity?"

"Officially? Oh, you'd heard I'd got a job at the _Prophet_?" Dumbledore nodded and she continued, "It's partly officially -- at least, I'm hoping to get the story afterwards -- and partly just as a favour to a friend." She cast a warm glance toward Nell, and Nell smiled gratefully back at her.

"Plus, we're hoping the 'press' being here will have some impact on Fudge," Nell added.

"I had thought that was part of the motivation," Dumbledore commented. He joined in the mutual smiles.

The smiles died, however, when an officious knock came at the door.

"Miss Burton?" called an unfamiliar man's voice. "Minister of Magic here to see you; please open the door."


	27. Confronting Fudge

**Chapter 27**

Nell glanced swiftly at Harry, to see him looking up at her anxiously. She took a deep breath and moved toward the door, although a second knock checked her forward momentum slightly. She reached for the doorknob and turned it.

The door was barely open when the person on the other side pushed against it, and Nell was forced to stumble back. A man in pinstriped robes, who Nell presumed was the Minister, and a much younger man in official-looking scarlet robes strode into the room past her. The first man stopped short when he saw Dumbledore and cleared his throat.

"Here now, Professor, this isn't a Hogwarts matter. The Ministry has jurisdiction, and--" he caught a glance at Harry, "--and this must be young Master Potter himself! Well, now."

Harry scowled at him, and the man frowned for a moment, then forced a smile. "I'm Minister Fudge, Harry," he said patronisingly. "I'm going to take you back to your aunt and uncle where you'll be safe, how does that sound?"

Harry's eyes widened. "No, thanks," he said hurriedly, and rushed past Fudge to stand behind Nell. "I'm fine here, really." Nell reached a hand toward him, and he twined his fingers between hers and held on tightly. "I don't really care for the Dursleys," he added. "Nell's nicer to me, and I don't have to stay in a cupboard, even though I don't have my own room."

Fudge let out a very forced-sounding chuckle. "Well, now, you do belong with your family--and I happen to know that they have a spare room all ready for you. Who knows what kind of nonsense could have been going on these last few weeks!" His eyes were flat and accusatory, glaring at Nell with very thinly veiled distaste.

"We know exactly what kind of nonsense has been going on," interjected Nell flatly. She squeezed Harry's hand, gearing herself up for the upcoming battle.

"What on earth do you mean, young woman?" asked Fudge. "What have you done to him?" They squared off like boxing opponents, facing each other across the room. The official trailing behind Fudge looked on helplessly, waiting for some cue, and Harry watched, wide-eyed and interested, from his safe vantage point.

"The question is, what have you been doing, Minister?" replied Nell. "I believe you've met my mother and my friends?" She indicated Mrs. Burton, Emma, and Audrey, who were sitting quietly absorbing the spectacle. Lupin and Dumbledore were watching in fascination, and Michele was taking notes so quickly it was a wonder her quill didn't give off smoke.

He didn't look at them. "No," he said.

"Take a good look," Nell urged. "Really."

Fudge scowled. "What are you trying to say, Miss Belton?"

"Burton," said Nell. "And I'm saying that you've interfered with their minds trying to get to me and Harry."

The stark accusation dropped like a bomb into the tense room. Fudge looked uneasily at Michele and her note-taking. "Who--what--don't be ridiculous!" he said, too late and too quickly.

Nell turned to her witnesses and raised an eyebrow. "Evidence, darlings? Are these the pinstriped robes?"

Emma laughed at him from her place on the sofa. "Of course it was him," she said easily. "How could I forget that fabric?" Her mother nodded, a bit uncertainly, and Audrey shrugged.

Nell turned back to Fudge. "Undo it," said Nell coldly. "Undo it now, whatever you did."

"I never!" exclaimed Fudge, sounding absurdly young in his denial.

"Then it was your companion who actually cast the spell?" asked Nell. She turned on him. "You undo it, if it was you."

The young man blushed hotly and shook his head slightly.

"You both refuse?" She paused and neither man replied. She turned to Michele, masking her growing rage. "Fine. Michele, did you get that?"

"It'll make a great headline," Michele said with enthusiasm. "Minister Fudge accused of series of Muggle attacks! Denies responsibility in the faces of his victims!"

"Here now!" said Fudge loudly. "Dumbledore! Surely you have some control over this girl! I would hate to arrest the lot of them, but I will if I must." He motioned to the Auror who stood up straighter, looking official.

"That depends on a great deal, Cornelius," said Dumbledore easily. "_Did_ you Memory Charm these three women?"

"Well, they're only Muggles after all, Dumbledore," said Fudge with a hint of a whine. "It's a pity, of course, when steps must be taken, but sometimes political expediency must take precedence."

"Precedence over basic human rights?" Nell said, on the verge of an explosion.

"Human rights?" echoed Fudge blankly. "What're those?"

"Those are the laws that say that you CAN'T TAKE AWAY MY FRIENDS' AND MUM'S MEMORIES WHENEVER YOU FEEL LIKE IT!" Nell shouted at him. She moved closer as her volume rose, until she ended about two inches away from the now-cringing man.

The official behind him stepped forward hesitantly, but Nell stopped him with an upraised hand. She glared at Fudge until the man looked away. She huffed out a disgusted breath and stepped back, raising her hands. "Fix them," she said. Her voice left no room for argument. Fudge looked back at her stonily. "Fix them. Now."

He sighed. And turned, raising his wand and pointing it. Straight at Nell.

She shrieked and Lupin shouted, drawing his own wand on Fudge. The official drew his as well, training it on Lupin. "Put that away, Lupin," he said menacingly. "You know what the penalties are for threatening the Minister."

"Tell him to put his wand away, then," retorted Lupin.

"Tell him to use his wand to fix my mum and friends," shouted Nell, glaring at the minister. After her first yell of surprise, she focused on Fudge's red, angry face.

"STOP IT!" yelled Harry suddenly. "Stop it stop it stop it!"

Fudge turned to look at him, letting his wand hand drop. As soon as it did, Nell moved hastily away from where she'd been standing. Harry seemed ready to launch into a full-fledged tantrum, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to be near enough to comfort him or far enough that she wasn't included in the damage wrought.

"Now, Harry, son," said Fudge pompously. "This little scene proves that you need better supervision. The Ministry can provide that for you, only do calm down a bit, son."

"I'm not your son," fumed Harry. His face was set deeply into a scowl and his attention was focussed entirely on the Minister. Everyone else in the room was focussing on Harry.

Except Nell. She surreptitiously edged over to Lupin and poked him, hard, in the back. He jumped slightly and looked away from the spectacle in front of them. "DO something," hissed Nell.

"What?" whispered Lupin.

"I don't know," Nell whispered back, feeling a bit foolish. "Something. _Anything_."

Before he could, Fudge took one step too many towards Harry.

And Harry did something first. He shrieked in frustration, jumping up in the air to stamp both his feet at the same time.

As Harry came down on the floorboards with a thud, Fudge abruptly rose up, as if Harry had stepped on the other end of a seesaw. He bounced against the ceiling gently--and stayed there. He squalled in alarm, but could seem to form no words.

The official who had accompanied him moved his wand up to the ceiling and started muttering spells under his breath. He seemed to have very little success, and after a few minutes, craned his neck to look around at Harry.

"Now, son," he said, in an apparently unconscious imitation of Fudge, "Why don't you let him down?"

Harry crossed his arms and scowled. "Why don't you do it?"

The man looked hunted. "I, er, I can't. Exactly. Headmaster?" He turned appealingly to Dumbledore.

"Oh, that's very interesting, Harry," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Perhaps your point has been made?"

Harry looked over at Nell. She nodded encouragingly, and Harry looked back up at Fudge.

Fudge plummeted to the ground. A foot before slamming into the floor, he stopped and floated to an inelegant face-first landing. Harry snickered.

The official ran to Fudge to help him up, but the red-faced man waved him away once he had regained his feet. He turned and appeared to be straightening his robes.

Nell coughed gently. "Minister? You were going to reverse the memory spell?"

He stiffened but didn't turn around. She continued, "Or was the ceiling a nice place to spend a few hours?" Harry snickered again, and Nell was hard pressed to suppress her grin.

Fudge finally turned around. "_Finite Incantatem,_" he said, in a voice that sounded bored but had a telltale tremble. The reaction on the sofa was immediate. Nell's mum fell back, eyes closed and shoulders slumped. Emma gasped and squinted her eyes as if the light in the room was suddenly too bright, and Audrey

raised her hand to her forehead as if it suddenly ached.

Nell looked at Lupin, and he nodded slightly. They would shortly regain their memories, Nell gathered, and would be fine.

Although she wanted to run to them, she stood her ground. That only solved the immediate problem. She turned back to the Minister. "Now, what's this about taking Harry away from me?"


	28. Proper Parental Permission

**Chapter 28**

Fudge drew himself up and straightened his robes with importance. "Obviously, the Boy Who Lived belongs with his rightful family or under some suitable guardianship. Allowing him to be whisked away by some Muggle teenager cannot possibly be allowed. Our investigation revealed that you had no preparation for parenting a Wizarding child, and as the representative of the Ministry of Magic, I do not consider you to be adequate to care for the Boy Who Lived." He drew a deep breath, ready to continue, but Nell cut him off.

"Who would you consider suitable?" she asked, as mildly as she could. She couldn't decide if his pompous little speech, so obviously rehearsed, was amusing or horrifying.

"Either close family or proper Wizarding guardians," repeated Fudge stubbornly. Nell took a step toward him in frustration, but he held his hand up in alarm, backing up. "Don't bother trying to bully me into changing my mind, Miss Burton," he said. "There is no room for compromise here."

"But there is room for blackmail," she said, casting an eye back at Michele, who smiled and raised her note-parchment and readied her quill.

He puffed up, cheeks reddening in anger. "Are you threatening me?" he asked, taking a step forward. "I would advise you to have some respect."

"I would advise you to earn it," Nell shot back.

"Now, now," said Dumbledore, stepping forward. "Surely we can reach a compromise, Cornelius, Nell."

Fudge shrugged. "You know the laws as well as I do, Dumbledore. Without parents or guardians, children become wards of the state. And I am the head of state here, so it is up to me to decide where Harry should be placed." He smiled benevolently at Harry.

Harry scowled back. "If my dad were here--" he started, then his eyes lit up and he ran forward. Fudge took another hasty step backward, his back pressed nearly against the wall, but Harry's target was a small book lying innocently on the coffee table. "Here," he nearly shouted, waving the book excitedly. "You want to ask my dad? Ask him!"

Fudge stared at him blankly. Nell coughed. "He doesn't understand, Harry," she said.

"Me either," confessed Michele. Indeed, most of the people in the room were looking as blank as Fudge; Lupin, on the other hand, simply looked guilty.

"My dad's in here," Harry said, flipping the book open. "Talk to it, you'll see."

Fudge took the proffored book gingerly and, looking rather foolish, stared at the pages. Eventually, he mustered a tentative "Hello there."

Nell couldn't read the book from where she was standing, but she could read Fudge's face. As she watched his eyes widening, she began to have a bit of real hope that perhaps things would work out.

Her hopes were dashed when Fudge closed the book and nearly threw it onto the table. "Who is responsible for this?" he demanded.

"That would be me," said Lupin, stepping forward with the air of a man approaching a judge. "James Potter and I, as well as some fr-friends," he stammered, "created conscious objects while we were at Hogwarts. This one was created using the Transcribo charm with a variation on," he took a deep breath, "a Splitting curse--a minor variant," he added hastily, but too late.

Nell had only a moment to wince at the bad Latin before the room erupted in shouting. Between Fudge demanding that Lupin be arrested for his illegal use of charms, his underage magic, and a few things besides that Nell didn't quite catch, Lupin defending himself, and Dumbledore trying to restore them to peace, not to mention Harry adding his own opinion to the mix, she was quite overwhelmed. Backing off for a moment, she sidled over to Michele and nudged her. "Getting good notes?" she whispered.

"This is brilliant," breathed Michele.

The shouting died down eventually, as each wizard realized that no one was listening to him. Nell simply scowled at them. Quarrelling like schoolboys. Something of her disgruntled expression had evidently made an impression, for Fudge coughed and straightened his robes, Harry perched anxiously on the couch, and even Dumbledore looked a bit sheepish.

"Thank you," she said crisply. She turned to Fudge. "Is the spell illegal?" she asked.

"It certainly is!" he said, and looked ready to expand on that, but she held up a hand.

"Since he did the spells, or whatever, when he was in school, can he still be in trouble for it? In the Muggle world, we have a statute of limitations for minor crimes…"

Fudge subsided slightly. "I suppose it is rather old--however serious," he added, glaring at Lupin.

Lupin looked offended. "Do I look that old?" he asked, a bit plaintively. But he held up his hands a moment later. "Sorry, sorry," he said. 'Thank you. As I was saying, the Splitting had the effect of removing a small portion of each of our personalities--enough to retain essential parts of the consciousness. A bit like a good portrait would," he said pointedly.

"But you will recall that the process for portraiture is quite different from schoolboys creating a sentient object," said Fudge, looking as though he might change his mind about allowing Lupin a measure of leniency.

"Nevertheless," said Lupin hastily, "a portion of James Potter does remain attached to the book. I believe that regardless of the process, he is capable of consenting to his son's adoption." He turned to Professor Dumbledore. "Am I correct, sir?"

"Yes, of course, my boy," he said fondly. "You were always one of my brightest students. Minister, if you ask the book, I am sure James will have an opinion. I cannot recall him being short on those, as I remember the dear boy." He shared an affectionate glance with Lupin, and Harry edged nearer, seemingly intent on absorbing the memories through sheer effort of will.

Fudge grudgingly picked up the book again and asked it loudly, "James Potter, do you wish to have your son adopted by an unrelated, single, young Muggle girl?"

Professor Dumbledore took the book gently from Fudge's fingers. "'I don't know from girls, but Nell's a right sort', he read, and looked up, eyes a-twinkle. "That sounds fairly definitive to me, doesn't it?" he asked rhetorically.

Fudge scowled.

"Oh, our readers will just love this," gushed Michele suddenly. "When I describe the brilliance of Minister Fudge in finding such a diplomatic and wise solution, I'm sure we'll get hundreds of letters!" She put her head down and appeared to become absorbed in taking notes while the others in the room stared at her dumbly. Nell tried hard not to smirk as she understood--it was even harder not to grin when Fudge started to puff himself up to his previous level of pomposity.

"Oh, no, Miss Zabini," he said expansively. "Surely not hundreds."

"Oh, yes, indeed," she said, not looking up. Nell could see the corner of her mouth twitch.

"Is there any paperwork?" she asked, trying to distract the Minister.

He frowned. "No, I believe we will let the papers stand as they are. Do keep in mind that parental permisson or not, you will be subject to periodic review? Don't get complacent," he warned, shaking his finger at her.

Nell didn't mind a bit, as it seemed that he was, miraculously, consenting to leave Harry with her. "Thank you," she said, meaning it as much as she had ever meant anything. "Thank you so much."

He coughed. "We'll just be on our way, then," he said. "Come along." He gestured imperiously and the young man with him followed him out the door.

As the door shut behind them, the room was silent. Nell could only look around, eyes wide in shock. Harry breathed a gusty sigh of relief that seemed to echo, and after a moment, they began to laugh in sheer relief. Harry ran over for a celebratory hug, and Nell couldn't help but feel as though everything was as it shoud be.

**Epilogue**

Everything wasn't quite perfect, as happy as Nell had been right then. There was quite a lot of sorting out to be done, and the whole thing had to be explained, more than once, to Audrey and Mrs. Burton. Nell and Harry were soon ensconced at home, however, and their lives settled back into a pattern, as lives have a habit of doing. Nell graduated and took her job, Harry continued going to school--quite as far away from Dudley as was possible while still being in the same city--and Fudge kept trying to make trouble every six months or so.

But for all that, they were quite happy. There wasn't trouble again until--

But never mind that. That's another story entirely.


End file.
